Merely A Luxury
by beautifulxxflame
Summary: Melissa is a cynical club dancer who has been given a blessing that may turn into a curse. When she meets a radical group's leader with a tongue as sharp as hers, she may realize she doesn't have to be alone. Slightly AU, Circle era, full summary inside
1. Prologue: Deal with a Demon

Disowned by her parents due to a blessing that may turn out to be a curse, witty, cynical Melissa Ryder finds work in the heart of Alicante as a professional club dancer. When she finally decides to persue her lifelong dream of becoming the Shadowhunter she was born to be, she meets someone that finally seems to understand her, and may convince her that she doesn't always have to be alone. Slightly AU, OC pairing, set in the time of the Circle.

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First chapter of my new fanfic, in the Mortal Instruments fandom! I haven't finished City of Glass yet, so I apologize for any wrong infortmation, but I'm almost certain there isn't any. This fic is going to be pretty short, I think, around 15 or so chapters, so I know I'll be able to finish it. I have lots of ideas for a sequel, but we'll just see how you guys like it! Central pairing is... why don't you find out for yourself? You may be able to guess by looking at the character it's put under. Or not. On with the story!

**Disclaimer: **Although there are no characters that are not my own in this chapter, I do not own the ideas and refrences of the Mortal Instruments series. They belong to Cassandra Clare.

As always, reviews are much appreciated! :)

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_Idris Countryside: 1981_

**Prologue: Deal with a Demon**

"I will not tell you again, Melissa. You will not become a Nephilim, and that is my final word. No questions asked."

She felt the fury building up inside of her once again. _How could you deny your only child what they want most in the world?_ It was cruel. Melissa wanted so badly to join the ranks of the others that had the blood of the Angel in their veins. They had been training for that life in the Glass City Alicante, central home city of the Nephilim, or Shadowhunters, since their childhood. While she, Melissa Ryder, had been kept in her home, away from that life, by her parents for all of her twenty-three years.

"I am an adult now, mother. I am fairly certain that the choice is now mine."

"We will not allow it. That is a life of pain, suffering, and ultimately death, and we do not want that for our child. Do you wish to die?"

"Yes, because obviously the God-given powers that we possess become dormant at the exact moment we step up and fight our first demon."

"Do not be smart with me, Melissa!"

"_Then what am I supposed to do with them?"_

Her mother's voice warmed slightly. "You've been able to figure that one out up until now. Continue with your dancing. When you move, it's beautiful. You're amazing at it."

"Oh, won't that be helpful? A Shadowhunter that can dance. Lovely. I'm sure the Clave will be absolutely _begging _me to help fight in the next war," she spat, turning on her heel and stalking out the front door. It slammed with a bang behind her.

As she ran across the grassy front lawn, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and her mother, Melissa spared her house a backwards glance. It was big, that much was undeniable, and pretty too, in the way a massive house can become quaint if you construct it correctly. It was also her prison, and had been for every year of her life. She lived with her parents a day's journey from Alicante, on a sprawling acreage with no real limits. A forest bordered their house on one side; that was where Melissa was directing her feet for now. Thoughts of escape had crossed her mind more than once, but really, where would she run to? She did not have any knowledge of the real outside world; the only things she knew were things her parents had taught her. And she didn't know a soul. So what was the point?

Melissa reached the edge of the dark forest and slowed to a walk, jumping lightly over fallen tree branches. Dancing did aid your grace and sense of balance. Her feet made no noise against the soft forest floor, dappled with afternoon sunlight. Here, the world seemed flawless, perfect. It was where she always found herself when she needed solitude, which was often. With only your parents for company, you learned to live with yourself... most of the time, by yourself.

She easily found her favourite tree, a mighty oak that reached to the heavens. Seating herself at its base, the young woman leaned her head back against the trunk and let the coolness seep into her head, numbing and relaxing her thoughts. Her midnight black, wavy, past-shoulder-length hair, peculiar for the few perfect ringlets that were scattered throughout it, fell around her shoulders and framed her face, making her skin seem even paler than it already was. Melissa closed her eyes and sighed.

She had never even felt a Mark on her skin before, never felt the inhuman power it was supposed to give you. Never had been able to hold a stele or Nephilim sword in her hands. She imagined she'd have a pleasant relationship with her parents, if only they hadn't put this crushing restriction on her. If they actually understood her, if only for a moment. _If only..._

A high pitched scream cut through the still air like a knife. Melissa started and opened her eyes wide, jumping up as fast as she could. _Should I help? _It had sounded like a child's scream. Her first thought was to always stay out of things, let others deal with it on their own... but a _child..._

"I'm coming!" she yelled at the exact same time as another scream rang though the forest. She used her inhuman speed to jump high over fallen trees, darting this way and that through the maze of trunks. The only problem was her lack of weapon. And even if she did happen to have one on her, her lack of knowledge on how to use it properly. _Shit, even if I am not too late, I'll hardly be of any help!_

Melissa burst into the clearing, hardly out of breath, to find a girl no older than eight caught in a web of thorns attached to a huge maple. _Thorns on a maple tree?_ she wondered, but was focused much more on the helpless girl than on the tree's abnormal growth. Casting her gaze around the clearing, she spied a sharp rock and snatched it off the ground, holding the pointy end forward. She knelt down beside the thrashing girl, stating "It's pretty hard to help when you're wiggling around like an eel." Soft, calming words had never been her strong point.

The fair-haired child suddenly went limp and Melissa hoped it was due to her suggestion. She brought the rock up to the first thorny vine she saw and made short work of it, the makeshift knife working better than she had expected. It only took a few moments for the young adult, using her nimble, dexterous hands, to cut the child free. The little girl was staring at her with wide, sky blue eyes the whole time.

When she was free, she stood up and smoothed the front of her white dress down, which had become smudged with dirt. Melissa started to say something to her, but whipped around to face the vines as they suddenly disintegrated, leaving only a pile of fine dust on the forest floor. _Not completely sure, but almost positive that vines aren't supposed to do that._ She spun around again, starting to get dizzy, when she felt an ice-cold presence directly behind her. Melissa was staring straight into a pair of amber eyes, with the pupils of a cat's.

She screamed and fell backwards, whacking her head hard on the tree trunk. A demon was before her, a body of smoke levitating above the ground with two eyes that stared out from the smoke, straight at her. The little girl's body had vanished, but all the demon seemed to want to do was hover there and stare at her.

"What did you do with the girl?" Melissa demanded, trying as hard as she could to steady her voice. She hadn't met any new _people _yet, let alone a _demon._

The otherworldly being chuckled darkly. "I _was _the little girl. See the resemblance?"

She wouldn't tolerate fear from herself, so she wove a thin shield of cockiness and attitude around herself instead. "Nope, not exactly. Care to tell me why you're not eating me alive as we speak?"

"You really don't know anything. You saved me. I am in your debt."

_So the vines were a prison, and the girl glamour was a disguise. And I fell for it._ "Must have a pretty bad enemy to tie you up like that. What did you do, steal their lollipop?" Melissa quipped, a little less afraid. _I don't think you usually go around killing people who are held in your debt._

The demon fixed her with a stare that was far from amused. "We have our problems that we do not have to share with Nephilim."

"Yeah, speaking of Nephilim, you probably shouldn't even be here. Right? But whatever. What exactly does you "being in my debt" entail?"

She was looked at as if she had lost her mind. "If we were not in Idris, I would be certain that you are a mundane. There is no possible way that you cannot know things such as these."

"Let's just say that I've been under house arrest for the past twenty years, alright?"

The demon made a sound that made Melissa certain that she was being laughed at. She narrowed her eyes.

"If it really must be explained to you, it means that I am now your servant. Unfortunately."

Melissa's eyes widened. "I have a _demon servant now?"_

The demon sighed. "That is what I said, yes."

The image that immediately popped into Melissa's head was that of a little demon following her around everywhere and picking up the clothes that littered her bedroom floor. She stifled a laugh. But really... _a demon servant?_ And her parents didn't even want her becoming a Shadowhunter. They might have a few problems with their daughter having a servant that was coincidently the very thing that they were worried was going to "hurt her." When Melissa actually thought about it, she realized that she didn't want a demon servant at all.

It was now her turn to stare intently at the demon. "Do you have to become my servant?"

"Yes, there is no way around it. Believe me, if there was I would have pointed it out by now."

"Good point." Melissa focused on a patch of sky past the demon, trying to figure out just how she'd explain this to her parents.

The demon suddenly became still, and what could only be described as a thoughtful expression crossed its face. "Actually... there is a way."

Melissa's gaze snapped back to the demon.

"If you really do not want me as a vassal... I will have to bestow a gift upon you."

She raised her eyebrows. _This better not be a demon trick, cause that sounds too good to be true._ "Really? Anything my heart could possibly desire?"

"It's not as great as it sounds... there's one catch. When people ask for demonic gifts, we usually require their souls in return. You saved me, so I will not require your soul... but that does not mean I won't require _something."_

_Something. That sounds bad._ Melissa thought... she was basically being asked what she wanted most in the world, and required to think of it in the next few seconds. It should be something that she would not be able to physically acquire in life. Thinking along those lines, what was better to ask for than... life itself?

"I've made my choice, demon. What would be the price of... immortality?"

The demon possessed no visible mouth, but if it had Melissa had a feeling it would have been smirking. "Wise choice, Nephilim. Or some might say... not. But no matter, because it is yours. The price? I think it would be fair to trade more life for the inability to make life. So, if I turn you immortal, you will no longer be able to have children."

_No longer be able to have children._ Melissa knew that many people would be absolutely horrified at that statement. No heir, no person to carry on their bloodline. She had heard that it was a huge deal to some people, particularly men. But it wasn't exactly like her bloodline was a hugely "important" one. She wasn't taken care of like a valued "heir" should be... unless being a valued heir means not being allowed to pursue her born purpose in life and, instead, being kept in the house for all of her life. So really, what was the point of having children? So they can be born into, and live, the life that she so bitterly resented? Melissa wasn't the best person to consult when it came to feelings, but she knew that she wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

"Okay. Fine. You have yourself a deal, demon."

It raised its smoky eyebrows. "Are you completely and utterly sure about that, Nephilim? Many would be having second thoughts right now."

"I'm not someone most would classify as "normal." And stop calling me a Nephilim, because I'm not."

"Then what exactly are you?"

Melissa faltered. "I'm... I'm not completely sure myself."

The demon smiled knowingly. "I see. Stand before me, then." The young woman took a few paces from the tree that she had been leaning on, coming to a halt right in front of the otherworldly creature. From here, she could feel the cold air radiating off of its form. It started to float even closer towards her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, out of reflex more than anything else, a split second before the demon's body rushed _through _her own. Her very blood felt like it was turning to ice, and she could swear she felt icicles form in her hair. When she opened her eyes, though, it was like nothing at all had transpired, and her body was once again at its regular temperature. There was no trace of the demon.

"The insolence! He didn't even say goodbye," she muttered to herself as she held her hand in front of her face to inspect it. There was no notable difference. _Of course there wouldn't be,_ she mentally laughed at herself. _But... I'm immortal! I'll live forever!_

That was the thought that overshadowed all others in her mind as she ran quickly back to the safety of her own house.

Melissa pushed at it cautiously, almost as if it was alive, and the door creaked open. The house was silent and dark, due to the approaching night and it seemed that no witchlight had been lit yet. Her foot made a louder than expected noise on the floorboard, and she jumped, cursing when she realized it was only her own movements unsettling her. _It must have been the aftermath of seeing a demon, _she thought, _though, he hadn't been all that bad. _She made her way down the long, straight hall to the kitchen. The portraits that adorned the walls seemed to watch her as she walked, and she shivered. Many of them had skin that was covered in black, inky Marks. _Shadowhunters. _To put pictures like these up in the halls was teasing and cruel, Melissa had thought before. She tried to pay them no mind now.

Her mother looked up from the heavy-looking leather bound book as Melissa appeared in the doorway. The candlelight danced on Vivienne Ryder's skin, throwing the many faint, raised scars that dotted her skin into sharp relief. Even her mother had once been a Shadowhunter. She had given up that way of life along with Cole Ryder, Melissa's father, after a terrible event had taken place. Melissa was not sure what that event had been to this day.

"Ah, Melissa, you've come back. It's getting dark out, you know."

"Oh no, I just thought that there was an unscheduled solar eclipse," she said, but a smile ghosted across her face as she took a seat across from her mother. "No, that's why I came back."

Vivienne returned her smile. Smirking, they looked remarkably similar, with their dark hair and bright eyes. "You really need to learn to control that mouth of yours. It will get you in trouble some day."

"With who, the wildlife?"

"Very funny, Melissa. But you must have some pressing reason to grace me with your presence. Unless you're hungry, I guess."

"Food?" Melissa's father asked brightly as he strode into the room. He wasn't all that tall for a man, but the small room gave the illusion that he was larger than he really was. "Did you just say dinner?"

Both females raised their eyebrows at him. "No, not food, but something much more important," Melissa stated. "I have just had something happen to me today. Something life-altering."

"Let me guess," said Cole, "You beheld the fish mating in the pond!" Vivienne kicked him under the table. "Be quiet, she's being serious for once."

"Mother, father... I'm immortal."

"You're what?" her mother asked with a slightly confused expression on her face. Her father just furrowed his eyebrows.

"Immortal! Like, you know, live-forever sort of stuff?"

The room suddenly became deathly quiet and still. Melissa could have sworn that both of them weren't even breathing. Her father broke the silence first.

"And how... did you go about receiving that ability?" He asked in a whisper, as if he didn't really want anyone to hear him, to answer him.

"Well... I was in sitting in the forest, and I heard this scream. I ran to help, and found a little girl entangled in some thorns. When I released her... she turned out to be a demon. As a result, it claimed to be in my debt and therefore had to become my servant or bestow a gift upon me. I chose the latter... and that was what I picked," Melissa related in a soft voice. _What if telling them wasn't the best idea after all?_

It was a long time before anyone spoke. Her mother lifted her head slowly, as if it was weighed down by a ton of bricks. Her eyes glistened with moisture. "Melissa... _please _tell me that you did not make a deal with a demon. Please." It was obvious that she was near tears.

_By the Angel... they're really upset. What have I done? _"I'm sorry, but... yes, I did. It was the only thing to do!"

Her father leapt from his seat at the table, so forcefully that his chair fell on its back behind him with a bang. His voice was so loud; it reverberated throughout the entire house. "No, it was _not._ There were many other things that you could have done, Melissa! Do you realise that this makes you no better than a filthy Downworlder? You have associated with a demon, and therefore still possess their taint-"

Vivienne's voice cut through her husband's. It was so quiet; you could barely hear what she was saying. And for Melissa that was ten times as worse.

"Cole... Please. And Melissa..." she fixed her daughter with a long stare that was full of emotion. Longing, pain, pity... and a cold determination that made Melissa's breath catch in her throat.

"It would be best if you left. You are not our daughter anymore, you are one of them. An outsider. So leave, please," her steady voice caught then, the only show of emotion in her tone. "It would be better for all of us."

"Mother! You cannot mean that!" Melissa screamed. "I'm your only child!" The complete consequences of her actions were crashing down upon her, hard. But, in her place, who would have done any differently? The only world she had ever known was quickly disappearing.

Her father's eyes hardened as well. "You heard Vivienne. Leave. I do not want to see you cross our front door from now on."

Tears spilled out of Melissa's bright green eyes as she bolted for the door, not taking a single belonging with her. _How could these strangers even call themselves my parents? No parent would ever, ever do this. _She almost crashed into the front door, blinded by emotion and tears. Throwing herself out of the last connection she had to her childhood, Melissa ran down the long, stone paved path leading down to the main road. She didn't have a clue where she was going right now or where she was wanted in this world, only that she was hated by the two people she had ever known, let alone _loved._


	2. Club Belielle

So chapter two! Hope you guys like it so far. Now we're getting into the original TMI characters... as always, please review and tell me what you think! A picture to go along with this (and the best picture of Melissa I have drawn) can be found in a link in my profile.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own TMI, it's characters or plot, Cassandra Clare does. I also do not own "Alejandro", Lady Gaga does.

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_Alicante, Idris: March 1984_

**Chapter One: Club Belielle**

As soon as she set foot inside the high-end club completely decked out in modern décor, the music crashed down upon Aribelle Westin. She was tempted to clap her hands to her sensitive Nephilim ears, but resisted the urge, knowing it would cause her to look incredibly foolish. The harsh beat pounded in her very eardrums, setting her heart thumping in time with the rhythm. Now that she listened to it, the music really wasn't all that bad. Aribelle could definitely get used to going here every Saturday night.

"Honestly Aribelle, there was no point in coming here if you're just going to stand there moving your head like an idiot," Lucian Graymark commented, but he had a bright, teasing smile plastered across his face as he said it. Aribelle tried to kick him, but her foot ended up connecting with a strange, well-muscled leg instead. A tall, scarred and incredibly tough-looking Shadowhunter glared down at her.

"Oh- I'm sorry, I really am, I didn't mean-"

"You better shut up now, little girl, before I take you outside and teach you a bit of a-" The thug's threats were suddenly cut off by a sharp, cold voice. The kind of voice that wasn't overly loud, but had no reason to be, because everyone who heard it automatically stopped and listened anyways.

"I do not think that will be necessary."

A teen boy whose appearance could only be described as heart-stopping stepped in front of Aribelle. He was almost the height of the tall man, and just as muscular, though not in the thuggish way that was displayed by the male facing him. The sleek movement of the well-toned muscles underneath his white button-down shirt could only be described as elegant. Silver-blonde, almost white hair covered his head; a few strands falling to cover his unnaturally black, glittering eyes. The way he casually pushed himself in front of the smaller, golden-haired girl radiated utter confidence, like he knew that he was beautiful and was not afraid of a thing in the world.

The older Shadowhunter took in his appearance and stepped back hastily, almost as if he recognized him. When Aribelle looked closer, she noticed his eyes were focused on the silver ring on the boy's finger that glinted under the neon lights. "I didn't mean her any harm, I'm terribly sorry-"

"I'm sure you are. It would be better, though, if you left my friends alone." His voice was as calm as the surface of a still lake, but the fire in his coal-black eyes spoke for him. The strange man immediately walked to the door.

"Valentine Morgenstern, you really didn't have to do that. I was fine," Aribelle said in protest, though the relieved look on her face said it all.

The stunning, white haired boy raised his eyebrows, looking slightly amused. "The look on your face says otherwise, Aribelle."

"You sure didn't look fine!" Lucian stepped in. "And he looked like he was about to bite your head off!"

"You really have to learn to aim your kicks better, Aribelle," Jocelyn Fairchild, a fiery-haired girl standing beside Lucian stated teasingly, grinning at her. "I think Luke would have taken it much better than that bastard."

Lucian, known by most as Luke, flashed Aribelle his most menacing face. "I don't know about that. I could easily teach this shrimp a lesson as well!"

Aribelle narrowed her eyes. "Who are you calling a shrimp, mister oh-so-tall? Maybe I should call that thug back and you two could duel, to prove your ultimate prowess to me?"

Luke was just about to utter a retort when Valentine stepped between them. "Children, children," he started, in an amazing imitation of their least favourite teacher back at the training institute, "We will save our violence for the battlefield, will we not?"

Luke and Aribelle instantly burst into laughter, and even Jocelyn smiled a little. To them, and to the whole Circle, Valentine Morgenstern was their leader, their shining beacon of light. His charisma was nothing like they had ever seen before, and he had won the trust of each member of the Circle, the group which he led, almost instantly. The only one to resist was Jocelyn, who was strong-willed and had nicknamed their group "Valentine's Fan Club." Despite that, she was liked by everyone, including Valentine, and had given in to Luke's insistent pestering to accompany a few of them to Alicante's most prestigious sixteen and over club, which Valentine, with his old, very well-known family name, was a member of. Surprisingly, Luke was both Jocelyn and Valentine's mutual best friend.

"We should go in and take the chance to enjoy ourselves before the evening is finished," stated Valentine.

"No, I think I like the idea of freezing my butt off out here a little more," Jocelyn replied.

Valentine stared at her with an amused expression before turning and walking through the middle of the foyer and into the main dance area of the club, the lights turning his white shirt every colour of the rainbow. Despite what she said, Jocelyn followed him in, walking beside Aribelle and Luke.

Aribelle hadn't thought it remotely possible, but when they entered the main club, the music's volume increased. Luke's hands shot instinctively up to his ears. _Now who looks like an idiot,_ she thought, but she really didn't need Valentine breaking them up again so instead she just shot Luke a smile, which he returned. They found a table at the edge of the room, close to the bar where drinks were getting ordered steady by Shadowhunters older than eighteen. Luke shot the bar a longing look, while Jocelyn was already getting to her feet, noticing a dark, handsome boy in a short sleeved T-shirt that showed off the Marks that covered his skin. Valentine was gazing around the room, the far-off look in his eyes signalling that he had something important on his mind, possibly a new plan to convince more people of his belief that the Clave was a corrupted government. She wondered why he had invited them out if he was trying to think.

Aribelle glanced at Jocelyn again; she looked away from dancing with the good-looking boy and grinned. _Lucky, _Aribelle mouthed to her. Jocelyn gave her the thumbs-up. She switched her gaze to Luke, who had gotten up as well and was making his way to the bar (to order a non-alcoholic drink) when he was stopped by a pretty girl with blue eyes and hair the colour of caramel. Aribelle knew by the way she was standing close to him that she was asking him to dance. He blushed, and let her lead him onto the dance floor as well. She turned to Valentine, who had somehow acquired a drink and was sipping it delicately, smirking in Luke's direction.

"It seems like he caught himself a good one," Aribelle commented, raising her voice to an unusually loud volume to be heard over the pounding music.

"I would question who has "caught" who," he replied.

"You might want to watch out- you may be the next catch!" She pointed discreetly to a band of six or seven girls who were eyeing Valentine with a look in their eyes that could only be described as predatory.

Valentine stood up suddenly, abandoning his drink, and held out his hand to Aribelle. "Care to accompany me to the dance floor? I do not intend to dance, but it may sway the..." he gave the group of girls a distasteful look, "others if I have a girl beside me."

Aribelle's heart started pounding, against her own will. _Don't even think about it. I told him how I felt a long time ago, and he rejected me. We're friends now, just friends. He just wants to project an image. _Her heart slowed down a few notches as she got to her feet. "Sure, cool. Just let me get a drink first." She didn't really plan on dancing either, even though she could see a few cute guys in the crowd checking her out.

Valentine and Aribelle ended up leaning against a wall, sipping drinks and people-watching. He still wore a look of concentration, while Aribelle was just enjoying the music. A few dancing Nephilim had bumped into her (by accident), while a few girls had bumped into Valentine (not by accident) but they both ignored the crowd as best they could. The tall boy's glares could stop the bravest females in their tracks.

"Do you come here much?" Aribelle shouted to Valentine over the blaring music. He turned his gaze on her, and she felt the familiar little _thump-thump _in her chest. She mentally shoved it away, with the practise of years and years.

"Only when I'm extremely bored on a Saturday night," he replied, giving her a half-smile.

"I'm guessing that doesn't happen too often?"

"Not lately. I came here more often at the start of the year, sometimes even with my father." A dark look passed over his face, but was gone the next second. The father that had been his idol had died suddenly on a Shadowhunter raid earlier this year. Valentine was still known to burst into fits of rage, something that had never happened when his father had been alive.

A voice, presumably amplified by a volume Rune, cut through all conversations, and even through the music. The band playing onstage stopped as if on cue and started packing their stuff up hurriedly. A tall, thin man dressed in a suit (by far the most formal outfit here) walked onto the stage, an inky rune scrawled on his throat that was the source of the abnormally loud voice. He brushed the non-existent dust off his sleeves and cleared his throat.

"We are honoured to present a very special guest tonight. She doesn't dance for us often, but when she does... you better be watching. This girl is beautiful, undoubtedly one of the best dancers in Alicante. We're lucky to have her... and we're lucky to be able to_ pay _for her," he broke off chuckling, and the crowd that had gathered beneath the stage laughed along with him. Their faces were excited, and expectant. The regulars here obviously knew which girl he was talking about.

"So, please give it up for... Miss Belielle!"

He quickly scurried off the stage as the lights went out. Beautiful chamber music started. It was pitch black up on the stage, but with her powerful Nephilim vision, Aribelle could just make out a willowy shape. A powerful, high voice started singing.

_I know that we are young,_

_And I know that you may love me,_

_But I just can't be with you like this..._

_Alejandro._

A pounding beat started on top of the classical music and the stage was suddenly illuminated by a soft, glowing light. On it, kneeling at the front, was a beautiful black-haired girl. Aribelle couldn't tell her exact age, it could have been anywhere from nineteen to twenty-three, but she knew that the girl was older than her. Belielle was clothed in a simple black dress that hugged her slender body and perfectly formed dark curls cascaded down to her shoulders. She wore the rest of her hair pinned up in a loose bun on the top of her head. Blood-red lips smiled slightly at her admirers, and she stared out into the crowd with a piercing gaze that made you feel as if she was calling each person up onto the stage to dance with her. Her voice washed over them again.

_She's got both hands,_

_In her pockets,_

_And she won't look at you, won't look at you,_

She started pulling herself to her feet, slowly, in one fluid motion, dragging her hands up her toned legs as she did.

_She hides true love,_

_En su bolsillo,_

_She's got a halo around her finger_

_Around you._

She started moving across the stage, her black shiny pumps making almost no noise on the hard, polished surface. Aribelle noticed that her skin was completely devoid of any scars of old Marks. There was not even a Mark on her throat to magnify her voice. _Wow, her voice is powerful enough to not need any enhancing, _the blonde haired girl mused.

_You know that I love you boy,_

_Hot like Mexico, rejoice,_

_At this point I gotta choose,_

_Nothing to lose._

Belielle twirled around the stage, rotating her hips perfectly in time to the music. Her movements were like waves, one running into another without any stop. It was clear that she was more comfortable dancing than she was walking.

_Don't call my name,_

_Don't call my name, Alejandro._

_I'm not your babe,_

_I'm not your babe, Fernando._

She bent down, as if to touch her toes, and drew her hands slowly up her body, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the audience.

_Don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch,_

_Just smoke my cigarette and hush._

_Don't call my name,_

_Don't call my name, Roberto._

_Alejandro._

Aribelle took her gaze off the amazing dancer and glanced around the club. Most people had stopped dancing themselves and were watching Belielle. The short Aribelle stood on her toes, looking around for Valentine.

_She's not broken,_

_She's just a baby._

_But her boyfriend's just like a dad, just like a dad._

_And all those flames that burned before him._

_Now he's gotta firefight, gotta cool the bad._

There was Jocelyn, nodding her head slightly to the beat, with Luke standing beside her. He was watching the dancer with a look of longing on his face. She scanned the room once more. _Where was Valentine?_

_At this point I gotta choose, _

_How can you lose?_

There he was. She would have imagined finding him leaning against a wall away from the crowd, smirking slightly at the effect Belielle was having on a hundred hapless Shadowhunters. But that was not the case at all. Valentine was standing exactly where he had been before Belielle had started performing, but Aribelle had not recognized him for he blended in perfectly with the crowd. Black eyes slightly wider than usual, he watched her every move, smiling slightly. _Could he... like her? _Aribelle mused in shock, but she snapped herself out of it a moment later. _Valentine does not "like" girls. If he wants to date someone, it is for his own personal gain. I know that much, and that is why I myself will not fall into that trap. _He must be... interested in her, for some reason.

_Don't call my name,_

_Don't call my name, Alejandro._

_I'm not your babe,_

_I'm not your babe, Fernando._

_Don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch,_

_Just smoke my cigarette and hush._

_Don't call my name,_

_Don't call my name, Roberto._

_Alejandro._

The music came to a halt and Belielle stopped moving as well, with her hands above her head in an alluring pose. If she had thought the music was loud, Aribelle couldn't even name the volume of the crowd's cheers. Belielle smiled slightly through the din of the applause that was showering down upon her, curtsied, and walked through a door in the stage wall.

"That was sure some performance, wasn't it?"

Luke and Jocelyn had found their way back to Aribelle and Valentine. She turned to face the two that had just arrived and Valentine quickly followed suit, stumbling a little. A look of shock flitted across Aribelle's face. Valentine never stumbled. She wondered if he had a little too much to drink.

Jocelyn started talking. "So, since that's over, what do you guys want to do? I heard that there's a man at the back giving out a special drink for minors, possibly with a bit of alcohol slipped in-"

"No. I would prefer to leave now." Valentine's voice cut through hers. He turned on his heel and started walking quickly towards the door. Aribelle glanced after him.

"Valentine, wait-"

He just held a hand up towards them without looking back, and they got the message. _Stay if you want, but I'm leaving. _

The group of three followed him out into the cool early spring evening air; Jocelyn's muttered protests trailing after them.


	3. First Impressions

This took a while but don't worry, it's definitely not on hiatus! Over the coming summer I will get lots done. In this chapter the main characters meet... ENJOY! :)

**EDIT:** I took this down and then posted it again because the last version had many grammar/spelling mistakes and I had to fix them :P Chapter three is in the making!

Reviews are always appreciated!

**I do not own the Mortal Instruments series, only Melissa.**

* * *

**Chapter Two: First Impressions**

The sick, twisted feeling in her stomach that almost every kid got on their first day of school surfaced once again in Melissa Ryder's stomach, but she pushed it away immediately. _This is what I've always wanted. What I've been trying to get my parents to allow me to attend for most of my life. Really, everyone there will be a kid compared to me. I'm physically twenty-three, and actually twenty-six. I do not even have to socialize with them, and I plan not to. I am only here for an education._

She walked out the door of her small city apartment in the heart of Alicante that she had bought when she had finally earned enough to move off the streets. The last three years she had spent in Alicante had been tough, but she had to admit they had also been the best of her life. There were countless things to experience – new objects, shops, and _people – _city life in general. She had only met a few individuals, her manager at the club being one of them, but she was content with that. She didn't enjoy the people here all that much, since the main topic of discussion was Shadowhunter activities that she knew nothing about; with the exception of the city sights. Alicante was exactly as it was rumoured to be – breath-taking. Melissa could still remember the first night she had arrived here, cold and hungry from her journey, and had witnessed the nightly display of fireworks. She had thought that she had somehow stumbled upon heaven itself.

And finally she had enough money, earned from her almost nightly gigs at various clubs around Alicante, to enroll at the Shadowhunter Training Academy. To acquire the skills that she would need to pursue the life she had always dreamed of. Melissa had dropped by the Academy a few days ago to sign up and they had been happy to accept her, if a bit skeptical about her age. There was no age limit, though, and she had signed herself up as being eighteen. They had also put her through a few tests to see where she would place in the classes, and to her dismay she found she would be stuck with sixteen year olds, due to her parent's lax teachings in History and her own athletic abilities that her dancing had improved. If she had never danced, she would have been placed with preteens, since she had never handled a weapon in her life. And now Melissa had gotten up a bit earlier than usual in preparation for her first day of school in her life.

As she walked down the cobblestone path, she shivered slightly in the cool March breeze and wrapped her grey hoodie that she had picked up from a second-hand store the day before closer around her body. Since she had arrived in the city, Melissa had worn mostly old jeans she picked up from thrift stores and tops from her many dance costumes with jackets overtop. Even though her dancing had made her moderately wealthy (she, known by a different name, was one of the most sought-after club dancers in Alicante) Melissa had never cared that much for clothes. Everyone would look the same in the end.

The Academy loomed up in front of her like a massive demon waiting to swallow her whole. _Get a grip, _she told herself firmly, _and even if it did eat me, who would care? _Melissa quickened her pace. It wouldn't look all that great to show up late on her first day of school.

The walk to the front doors proved uneventful. A few other Nephilim were making their way into the Academy, but not half as many as she would have thought. Melissa took another glance at the huge building and the many windows that were scattered along its walls and then realized that it was a boarding school, and that only a few students did not live on campus. A bell started tolling as she broke into a run. _I don't even know where room 210 is!_

The front entrance hall was as crowded as she imagined the grounds should have been. Melissa began to feel a little out of place as she walked quickly up to what appeared to be the front desk. The oldest of the students milling around her looked at least two years younger than she really was. _At least I'm not the tallest, _she thought as she passed a group of girls that towered over her. Melissa wasn't the tallest by far.

"How may I be of service to you, young lady?" the secretary peered down at her over the mahogany desk, adjusting her spectacles.

"Classroom 210?"

"Mrs Logan's? What about it?"

Melissa sighed impatiently, noticing the hallway clearing out as the students rushed off to their classes. "As in how to get there?"

The secretary narrowed her eyes at Melissa. "Up the first flight of stairs over that way, and the first door on your right. But I warn you, Mrs Logan won't take any of that attitude."

Pretending she didn't hear the last comment, Melissa snatched up her bag and rushed over to the nearest spiral staircase. As she climbed, she took in the tall, gilded walls and the many painted portraits that decorated them, presumably of past influential Shadowhunters. Reaching the top of the stairs, the young woman practically ran into the first doorway on her right, just as the last bell tolled.

The classroom was more spacious than she had imagined. Antique dark wooden desks filled the majority of the space, with a few metres at the front clear in front of a blackboard. Anyone's typical classroom, if a bit luxurious in an old-fashioned way, even though Melissa didn't know that due to the fact that she had never been in a classroom in her life.

It was also filled with people. Onstage, she was confident in front of hundreds. She had even received the best applause of her career last Saturday; the first time she had sung her newly written song. But in a classroom, where she would have to be in close contact with the people who inhabited it for the remainder of this school year and for the next few years, Melissa wasn't as comfortable. Many of the teenagers stopped chatting and looked her way as she entered. It wasn't every day that a new student came into their class. A small group of girls sitting at the front desks with their hair in huge pigtails tied with bows eyed her with vague interest as she made her way across the classroom. Melissa noticed then that everyone was in uniform, making her feel even more out of place. She hated the idea of wearing something that made her look the same as every other student, but she made a mental note to ask for one as soon as possible.

A cluster of boys halfway back nudged each other, pointing to Melissa. She could just catch the words "New girl" and "Hey, not bad." Raising her eyebrows and grimacing, she quickened her pace. And then the newcomer caught sight of a group of teens at the back of the class. They hadn't even spared her a glance; they were so deep in discussion with one another. Their circle was composed of both boys and girls evenly, a not all that tall boy, a fiery red haired girl, two black haired, pale skinned teens, a slight girl with golden hair and a very fit-looking, tall boy with hair so blonde it was almost white. As Melissa was staring at them, the blonde haired boy shot a glance over at her, raising his eyebrows and smiling. The other members of their group immediately turned to look at Melissa as well, and she quickly moved her gaze to the teacher who stood in front of her. The young woman thought about the way the group had followed the boy's actions – she concluded that he must have some sort of leading position with them.

"And you are Melissa Ryder, I presume?" The teacher was dressed in a simple collared shirt and pencil skirt with her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. What Melissa noticed about her was not her fierce expression, but the hundreds of slightly raised white scars that decorated her skin, showing off her status of Shadowhunter. All of the students in the room had skin like that as well to some extent. _One of the things I desire most right now... to bear those signs of Marks like all the others._

"That is me, yes."

The teacher's mouth curved into the faintest beginnings of a smile, but nothing more. "I see. You may call me Mrs Logan. I believe I have not seen you in my home class before. This is your first day here, is it not? Even at your age?"

_She's trying to make me say I haven't had any previous training, in front of everyone else. _

"You could say that. Why would I be in front of you if it wasn't?"

Mrs Logan's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Headmaster did mention that you had a bit of an attitude when he tested you, Miss Ryder. You may be older than the other children here, but that does not mean that you will get special treatment. I expect you to work just as hard as the others... if not harder, since you are still behind them. Miss Thornburg!" she barked suddenly, and one of the pigtail ribbon girls jumped to their feet and skittered towards them. "I want you to give Miss Ryder here a quick tour around the school, so she will not get lost and be late again. Be back in ten minutes, or you will be late for your next classes." Mrs Logan glared at the girls until they both walked quickly out of the room.

Once out of the room, the girl who was addressed as Miss Thornburg grabbed Melissa and pulled her against the wall quite forcefully.

"What the hell! What do you think you're doing?"

The other girl looked a bit taken aback by being spoken to that harshly, but she still said, "I think you should know about the way our class works. By the way, you can call me Ashila."

Melissa raised her eyebrows. "You really think that a class of sixteen year olds is that complicated? I think I'd like to be shown the school, if you don't mind."

Ashila nodded, intimidated a little, but still blurted out, "You should really stay away from Valentine Morgenstern!"

"...I don't even know anyone by that name. Who are they, and why?"

"The... _really _cute guy with the light blonde hair in the back of the class. I saw him looking at you a few minutes ago, and I'm not sure why 'cause he doesn't really pay attention to most girls... but _damn, _do they fall for him." Her voice had taken on a bitter tone at the end of the sentence, and Melissa was almost positive that it was due to Ashila's own personal experience.

"Okay, I guess I'll keep that in mind, but I'm not sure why you're telling me this because I will not be "dating" anytime soon. The school now, if you can?"

Ashila complied and took Melissa on a very short tour of the antique Academy that only included the training areas, for there was no reason for her to know her way around the dorms. They were back and waiting outside the classroom door before the ten minutes they had been allotted was up.

Mrs Logan was at the door before they had time to knock. "Hurry now, or you will be late for your lessons." She ushered them both in and turned to Melissa. "I trust you will not be late for any more classes?" she said sternly.

"Not at all," the new student replied in a bored tone.

"I hope not."

The tolling of a loud, unseen bell cut Mrs Logan's sentence off.

"Now, there's the bell! Off to class, students!"

There was a small tidal wave of teenagers rushing to get through the relatively small classroom door. Melissa, being the closest, quickly ran out the door ahead of the mob and waited just outside the door until the rest of the class had filed out. She then set off behind them, for she was still unsure of the location of her first actual class of the day.

Melissa's second classroom much resembled her first. She had been told that her first class was History of Weapons, and that her teacher was a Mr Shunburg. When they entered the room, everyone immediately sat in their pre-assigned seats, leaving Melissa standing more than a little awkwardly at the front. A middle-aged man walked over to her, looking at her with a mildly curious expression.

"You are the new student, Melissa Ryder?"

"That's me."

"Alright, Miss Ryder, you can sit... in that spare desk in front of Mr Morgenstern, I think."

He indicated the empty desk in front of where the blonde boy sat. His eyes darted up to meet hers, but only for a few seconds.

_Valentine Morgenstern... interesting. _The girl's warning had sparked her interest in him slightly. He was good looking, it had to be said, but she had seen many handsome men in her few years here. When she was warned about him, though... it intrigued her a little. She made her way down the aisle and slid quickly into the desk chair after receiving a stern glance from the teacher.

The rest of the class was an ordinary lecture, but for Melissa it was something completely new. She fished a piece of paper out of her bag and took notes, like she saw the other students doing. With one page of notes written fifteen minutes into the lecture it was going quite well for the new student, until she received a light tap on the shoulder.

When Melissa turned around, she was face to face with Valentine Morgenstern.

"You're the new student here, correct?"

She kept her face neutral and replied, "Seeing as you have never seen me here before, yes, it seems that I am."

He arched one eyebrow at her. "I see. Why did you decide to enroll at the Institute just now? You look older than many of our graduates." The way he said it, he sounded like he was genuinely interested in her life, something that would force a good story out of almost anyone. Melissa, however, didn't take the bait.

"I'm quite positive it's none of your business. Aren't we all Shadowhunters?"

For a second the blonde haired boy looked taken aback, although he then quickly recomposed his face into a stunning smile. It seemed that he wasn't used to getting that response from people, especially girls.

"Well, would you at least tell me your age?"

She shook her head and turned around to face the front of the class once again, muttering, "I don't see why you care so much."

She was only facing forward for a few seconds when there was another tap on her shoulder. Melissa whipped around, glaring at Valentine.

"What do you _want?"_

"If you're not going to tell me your age, than at least tell me if you're a native Alicantian or not."

A loud sigh escaped her lips. "Why are you so damn _interested?"_

"You're interesting. I don't often get this reaction, and I'm intrigued when I do."

Melissa raised her eyebrows. "If I answer a question... will you quit bothering me?"

He smirked. "Sure."

"I'm nineteen. There. A little old for a student at the Institute, but that doesn't really concern you, now does it?"

Valentine opened his mouth to reply when the teacher's loud voice cut him off.

"Socializing, Mr Morgenstern?"

The sixteen year old looked up. "Oh no, I was merely-" he started replying smoothly.

"Sorry Mr Shunburg, it was me."

The teacher's attention focused on Melissa.

"You started talking to Mr Morgenstern?" he inquired skeptically.

"Correct." She started at him, almost daring the teacher to contradict her.

"I see, Miss Ryder. You are a new student so I will be lenient this time, but you will not receive the same treatment the next time."

"Of course, sir."

Mr Shunburg returned to teaching the class, Melissa and Valentine to taking notes dutifully. The rest of the class was not remarkable, though Melissa learned many new things. Everything she knew had been taught to her by her parents, and it was refreshing to have a new instructor, so she paid attention, unlike many of the other students.

When the bell tolled again to signal the end of the class, most students snatched their bags up and bolted for the door. Melissa took a few minutes shoving her notes into her plain shoulder bag, cutting her finger on the edge of a sheet of paper. She was walking out of the classroom door with her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding with the intention of exploring the Institute a bit more when a voice made her turn.

"Why did you defend me?"

Valentine, who had been leaning on the wall outside the classroom with the shorter male and the black-haired boy and girl, was striding over to the new student. Melissa kept her face expressionless.

"Hmm?" _Why does a guy like this want to talk to me?_

"When Mr Shunburg caught us talking, he thought it was me, but you stepped in and took the blame. Why?"

Melissa thought for a few seconds. She hadn't really thought about it, the decision was impulsive, spur-of-the-moment.

"...Because I felt like it. I don't know."

Her answer was met with raised eyebrows. "Not the answer I expected."

* * *

The next two classes went without incident. When Melissa entered the Living Sciences classroom, she went through the usual meet-the-teacher event, and was assigned a seat between a short blonde girl with glowing light blue eyes and Valentine. She mentally cursed, knowing that he would almost positively keep up his interest in her personal life. She had not seen him since the morning; he hadn't been in any of her other classes, but it seemed as though she couldn't escape him altogether.

The immortal young woman dropped her bag with a muffled clunk and sat down. The teacher, a woman with wavy brown hair greyed a little by age, started speaking.

"Alright, class, settle down. Today, we'll be dissecting the body of the _microtus pennslyvanicus, _also known as a meadow vole. The supplies are at the front." Melissa noticed the girl next to her raise her hand.

"Yes, Miss Westin?"

"Are we just going to be taking the animal apart, or labelling the organs as well?" She sounded generally interested in the assignment. Melissa felt a slight kinship with her, since most of the students in the class seemed bored out of their minds.

"We will be both labelling a diagram and completing the dissection this class. You will be partnered with the student beside you. You may start. Quickly now, we don't want to keep you after school!"

That statement provided many of the students with the motive to work quickly. Melissa glanced towards the blonde female, but it seemed as though she was partnered with the person on her other side. She turned regretfully around to face the handsome boy on her left.

"What are the chances? It's your lucky day."

He smirked at her, performing his seemingly signature eyebrow raise. "I think it may be you who will find yourself lucky, Miss Ryder."

She stifled a laugh. "If you want to think that, be my guest." But when the young woman looked up again, Valentine had already left to collect their supplies.

The slightly intimidating metal objects were laid out on the table in no time at all. Melissa wrinkled her nose and recoiled slightly when Valentine brought the dead, preserved and horrible smelling rodent to the table on a platter.

"I really hope you don't expect me to eat that."

He laughed once and sat down. "I wouldn't suggest it, but that's only my opinion. We'll have to work quite quickly," Valentine commented, glancing at the clock on the wall and picking up a short knife. The way he held it made it seem like an extension of his own hand, he was so comfortable with the weapon.

"Maybe I should cut it, you look entirely too adept with that knife."

Smirking, the boy tossed the knife high into the air. Melissa's eyes widened as she quickly backed her chair away from where the knife would land, but there was no need. Valentine leaned over a little and caught the blade by its handle with ease. What confused Melissa the most was that she had noticed the teacher watching Valentine perform, but she had merely rolled her eyes and busied herself assisting students. _Don't tell me he's so good that the teachers don't even care._

"Do you doubt me now?"

"I only doubt your modesty. Go on; cut the rest of that thing up."

As he made short work of cutting the rodent's belly open, the blonde girl on Melissa's other side walked around her to him. "Having fun with that knife, Valentine? Nice throw, by the way." She smiled genuinely at him. _She seems too smart to be friends with someone as annoying as him._

Valentine looked up and smiled back at her. "Thank you, Aribelle. Have you met Melissa yet?" _Here we go once again with the niceties. _He was gesturing to her.

"Oh, no I haven't. Hey, Melissa. You should count yourself lucky to have scored Valentine as a partner, he'll pull his weight. Mine won't even touch the carcass, she's too scared. And it's not every day that you get an unbelievably _attractive _lab partner." Aribelle's smile was bittersweet here, and Melissa could tell there was something hidden behind it. Valentine seemed to notice it too, but he only laughed and brushed a stray strand of salty blonde hair out of his eyes. Melissa turned her attention back to Aribelle.

"He's only too happy to pull his weight. And _attractive_ may be going a bit too far."

Valentine narrowed his eyes. "If my observations are correct, I have been the _only one _to pull my weight here so far."

Aribelle seemed amused by their exchange. "Ooh, touché. I had better be going, if I'm caught here the instructor will kill me." She walked back around Melissa to her seat.

It seemed that Aribelle's absence was a pass for anyone else to start talking with Valentine. The shorter, brown-haired boy who was sitting in front of them turned around.

"Valentine, do you think you could help me? I have no idea which organ this is."

And so Melissa's lab partner got into another discussion with one of his friends, all the while cutting and separating different parts of the rodent. She even got introduced again, and learned that the boy's name was Lucian, but he went by Luke. It seemed that Valentine _was _the leader of his circle of friends judging by the way Aribelle had complimented him and how Luke had asked him for help- Valentine had naturally slipped into the role of teacher. When Luke was told off by the teacher and had turned to face the front, Melissa picked up a pair of tweezers and used them to push Valentine's knife out of the way.

"You complained about me not pulling my weight, so I'd like to do something, Mr Popular."

He smirked and pushed the tray in her direction, along with a diagram drawn on a piece of paper. "Label it, then. That would help me."

_Help you, _she thought angrily, _that's not at the top of my to-do list. _Melissa grabbed the diagram and started labelling it, completing it in the time it took Valentine to take out his stele and sketch a few runes on his arm with his left hand. _So he's a lefty. _Melissa tried not to look at the instrument in his hand, the one weapon that set Nephilim apart from humans.

"Alright students, it's time to clean up."

Before the instructor even finished her sentence, Valentine had flicked the knife and vole carcass back onto the tray and plucked the tweezers and diagram neatly out of Melissa's hands. While he was doing the work of two people cleaning up she glared after him, muttering "Making me look bad now?" Aribelle looked over her way and flashed a sympathetic glance, almost as if to say "He does that a lot." The bell tolled a few minutes later, signalling the end of the school day. The students all filed out into the ornate hallway, most going in the direction of the dorms while Melissa made to walk in the opposite direction, off of school grounds and back to her apartment.

"Farewell until tomorrow, Miss Ryder!" a familiar voice that was the model of politeness called after her.

Melissa seriously considered banging her head against a wall.


	4. State the Obvious

Yay, third chapter~ I won't be able to post on any of my stories for about two weeks since it's vacation time for me! D I'll be writing while I'm there, though, so expect lotsa updates when I come back. Nothing hugely plot develpomental going on here, or maybe there is...? Who knows~

A little shameless advertising~ like Death Note? Then go take a look at my other fanfic I'm currently working on, called "Beautiful Soul."

**I do not own the Mortal Instruments, only the plot, Melissa and her screwed up comebacks ;D**

**Chapter Three**

**State the Obvious**

She hadn't been wrong in the slightest- it had been a day almost exactly like the first one, but surprisingly only in pleasant ways. Melissa had attended three different classes so far this day and was about to enter the fourth. All three of her previous classes had been pleasingly Valentine-free, but as she entered the threshold of the fourth room, the new student grimaced as she saw that this would not be the case for the fourth. There he was, leaning back in his chair in a laid-back way that Melissa found incredibly annoying, conversing with the group that he was constantly found with. She had heard a bit about them from other classmates this day and apparently they referred to themselves as "the Circle," an exclusive group of students lead by Valentine Morgenstern himself that were dedicated to changing the Clave's view on things, especially Downworlders. The only thing Melissa had thought at the time was _Good luck with that._

The teacher called for silence and students sauntered back to their own desks. It seemed as though students could choose their own seats in this class, so Melissa walked quickly over to the empty desk beside Aribelle and sat down. The blonde girl flashed a welcoming smile that the brunette somewhat returned. As the instructor started talking about weapon theory, Aribelle leaned towards Melissa.

"In last class, did you get what the teacher said on key points to defeating third-class demons?"

Melissa nodded and dug in her bag for the notes she had taken on the subject. After she had handed them to the girl who sat next to her, she asked a question of her own.

"I noticed you weren't in one of my classes today, yet I thought that Mrs Logan said that this was our class for every subject. Why was that?"

Aribelle smiled while copying the notes. "Yes it is; we have a fairly small year. I wasn't here for World History because my parents are travel fanatics and have taken me to almost every country you can think of. I'm pretty good at remembering stuff, so they placed me up a year in that class." The mention of "parents" made Melissa frown a little, but she covered it quickly.

"Interesting." She didn't enjoy bringing up the subject that she was about to, but the new student's curiosity was burning. "But why is Valentine in only three of our year's classes?"

The other girl sighed in exasperation. "They've moved him up a year, sometimes two, in all the others. He was bad enough before, now he's almost unbearable!" she said in a slightly annoyed, mostly teasing manner. It was obvious now that she had known him for many years.

"Yeah, throwing a pie in his face would've been better for-"

"Miss Ryder, Miss Westin, pay attention or I will have to separate you."

Melissa was about to reply with "Sorry, I can't afford to," but thought better of it.

The instructor was finished her speech in another five minutes and had then handed out worksheets, saying that the students could work with anyone they pleased. Melissa and Aribelle began tackling it at once, working quite well together for two people who had met only yesterday.

""Anyone we pleased", did not say anything against groups of four," said a familiar voice above Melissa. The way she started writing would appear to anyone else that she held quite a strong grudge against her paper.

Aribelle glanced up and smiled. "Hey Valentine, Luke. Sure, as long as we get to put our two cents in as well!"

The two boys pulled up chairs opposite the girls' desks, while Melissa muttered something that sounded like "The teacher didn't say anything _for _it either." She scribbled in silence for a few moments, occasionally asking Aribelle confirmations on answers and trying to ignore the hand that was resting on her desk. It became very difficult to ignore, however, when it pointed to a diagram of a seraph blade on her worksheet.

"Isn't that supposed to be the labelled as the frame; and that as the blade?"

She met his ebony eyes with her own green ones ringed in annoyance. "No, this arrow points to the larger outer frame and the other one points a bit inwards. Don't you have a worksheet to be doing? Or at least another person to be annoying?"

Valentine waved his completed worksheet once with a small smile. "You're by far the most fun to "annoy," as you put it, Miss Ryder. And I think you'll find; if you look closer, that you're confusing the arrows."

The new student brought her diagram closer and found that Valentine was right, which annoyed her even more. "You can call me Melissa, you know," she muttered under her breath, not able to think of a comeback so she tried to put as much venom into those words as possible.

"Does that mean we're on first-name terms now?"

"No, it just means that insults sound better when used with first names. Like "Valentine is an asshole," sounds much better than "Mr Morgenstern is an asshole." Even though both have a nice ring to them. Now if you'll excuse me," Melissa stood up, pushed her chair into the desk with a little too much force, and walked out of the classroom with a muttered excuse of "bathroom break" to the instructor. Aribelle's and Luke's faces were shocked, positive that Melissa Ryder had gone a bit too far, but Valentine merely shrugged and started digging in his bag for something. Only Luke could detect the slight twitch of a vein in his temple that gave away the clue that he was annoyed.

Melissa sat in the hallway with her back up against a wall, not having any intentions of going to the bathroom. She drew her black hoodie around herself tighter, hiding the dark pink t-shirt that covered her torso. _Damn that Valentine... people don't usually make me lose my cool like that... _she glanced up as she heard footsteps approaching.

"You shouldn't have done that, you know." The short, brown-haired Luke was standing over her. Melissa jumped to her feet and crossed her arms, her usual defiant stance. Standing upright, she was taller than Luke.

"Done what? Said what everyone else was too scared to say?"

"No, insulted Valentine!" Luke's eyes narrowed, in a display of anger that was uncharacteristic for the boy. "You have no idea what he's done for every person of the circle, and what he's trying to do for you! He's better than any one of us, and _definitely _better than you. And there's something else," his voice trailed off, reluctant to say what he was going to say next.

Melissa let the last comment, which infuriated her to no end; go in curiosity of what was coming next. "What else? Is he a cross-dresser too?"

Luke calmed down a little and rolled his eyes. "No... I'm pretty sure he _likes _you as well, Melissa. In a different way than he likes all of us. I could be wrong, but..." his eyes widened suddenly, as if he was scared that he said too much.

She snorted. "I don't care what way he "likes" me in, I just wish he didn't like me at all! And you can tell him that if you want, Mr President of the Valentine Fan Club."

"You can't be serious! This is _Valentine Morgenstern!"_

"Yeah, and to me that's just another name. Now buzz off, if you know what's good for you."

Luke opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it and merely shook his head in disbelief as he turned and walked back to class a little faster than was necessary.

Melissa entered class again when there was only five minutes left until the end. The teacher called her over at once and she was almost glad for the excuse not to go over to the people still seated around Aribelle and her empty desk.

"Miss Ryder, where were you?"

"I... I got lost. It's only my second day! Cut me a little slack."

The woman looked at her disapprovingly before continuing. "And your uniform is also here." She handed the younger woman a stack of three long-sleeved white collared shirts with insignia and three black pleated skirts identical to what every other female in the class was clothed in. Melissa took them with murmured thanks and reluctantly went to sit back down at her desk. To her surprise, Aribelle struck up a conversation at once while Valentine didn't say a word and returned to his desk. Luke shot Melissa a glare and followed Valentine like a puppy. _Aw great, now I'm on shorty's hit list._

When a sharp rapping sound came from the front of the class every student looked up. The instructor was at the front of the class again and calling for attention.

"Before I let you go, I would like to assign a partner project." The louder ones in the class groaned and got shot reprimanding glares. "_And, _I will be picking the pairs." The sounds of displeasure intensified.

She then proceeded to read off a list of names. Melissa tuned the voice out until she picked up the sounds of names she knew.

"Aribelle Westin will be paired with Lucian Graymark." Aribelle gave her partner a high-five.

"Valentine Morgenstern will be with Melissa Ryder."

Melissa groaned at the irony of it all. She put her head on her desk, oblivious to the glares shot at her from numerous females. What made her not want to bring her head up ever again was the teacher's parting line: "And there will be no class time given for this project so you and your partner will have to meet outside of regular school hours. This will not be that hard, since most of you are boarding here at the school." The school bell cut off anything else the teacher was going to say.

The immortal girl didn't get to her feet for a few minutes after that, to find that the classroom was already empty. She slung her bag over her shoulder dejectedly and shuffled out of the room, acting more like thirteen than twenty-three. Entering the hall, she was about to turn her usual way and head home until raised voices caught her attention.

"You did _what, _Lucian?"

She crept around the corner until she had Valentine and Luke in her view. The latter was pressed against the wall while it seemed that the former was talking to him in angry raised tones.

"I'm sorry! I thought it would help, that she would come to her senses!"

"You _told _Melissa that I harboured some sort of _feelings _for her?"

"It works with most girl-"

"I _cannot believe you-"_

"Woah, woah, woah. Break it up, boys," Melissa stepped out of her hiding place and into their view. Luke's eyes widened while Valentine's face stayed impassive.

"Maybe it wasn't the best thing to do," she directed her statement at Lucian, who glared back, "But it's most _definitely _not something to yell at someone over. And it kinda looks like you were about to get violent as well." The tall, blonde boy closed his eyes, almost looking like he was trying to get control of himself, and finally took a few steps back.

"I don't care if what Luke said was true or not, but don't murder him for it. And I don't doubt your ability to do so, if you wanted." Melissa wasn't quite sure why she added that in, although when you looked at the statement closely, it wasn't so much of a compliment.

"Perhaps that was a bit too far. I apologize, Lucian," he said it curtly, without feeling, and then turned on his heel and made to walk down the hall when Melissa's voice rang out.

"Um... since we have a project and all... you should probably come to my house with me."

She paid Luke's shell-shocked face no mind since she was much too busy mentally knocking her own lights out. _Why the hell did I say that? Score, the second stupid thing you've done in five minutes, Melissa. I think you've set a record._

Valentine turned. "...Yes, that would be a good idea." He strode back the way he had come until he was beside Melissa. She noticed his eyes were no longer warm, but calculating. _Good, he knows we're only doing this because we have to. _The unlikely pair walked off the school grounds in silence, Melissa leading the way.

It was only a few blocks to Melissa's apartment, but between the presence beside her and the strained silence it felt like eons. The only sound that permeated the silence was the soft padding of their shoes on the hard path beside the street. They passed an herbal shop and a weaponry before Melissa absolutely couldn't stand the silence any more. She had a sneaking suspicion that Valentine would have been able to carry it on much longer, though.

"So what exactly is this project supposed to be on? It's right here, by the way."

She turned at a small villa of townhouses and entered through the main gate, almost completely overgrown in ivy. Many of the residents wished for it to be taken away, but Melissa personally thought it added character. The main courtyard that she entered, assuming Valentine was right behind her, was also overgrown in an almost old-fashioned way, lined with numbered doors on each of its four sides. The immortal girl immediately stopped at door number four and produced a key from her pocket, shoved it in the lock and walked over the threshold.

"Don't have a particular entrance rune?" Valentine inquired, referring to the special runes many Shadowhunters sketched on their doors to gain entrance instead of using a key.

Melissa shot him a dirty glance. "I don't even have a stele, brilliant."

He merely performed his incredibly irritating eyebrow raise once more and bent down to remove his shoes before standing to take in his partner's house. It was small, from what he could see it only included a bedroom, a bathroom and a living room connected to a tiny kitchen. Contrary to what he might have supposed, Melissa was quite tidy and the only place that showed signs of disarray was the space beside the sleek black upright piano, the only thing that looked remotely expensive in the room. Pages upon pages of sheet music, most of it handwritten, were scattered pell-mell around the instrument's base. Valentine crossed the room in three strides and curiously picked up a page.

"I believe we're here to work on a project," Melissa snapped from her place at the small dark wooden table. The tall boy let the sheet fall onto its home on the floor and took a seat across from Melissa on the only other chair at the table.

"Do you possess any ideas on what you would like to write about, Melissa?"

_He's gone back to being a gentleman, great. _"Not that great with weapons, remember? I'd rather do something I know about, unless you want to completely take over like yesterday."

"Whatever you prefer," he stated, hands out in a gesture of agreeability. "Would you consider studying the more dangerous class of seraph blade?"

Melissa, resting her elbows on the table with her head held up by her fists, felt her nonchalant expression turn incredulous. "Sorry, but I haven't even _seen _one of those things, let alone _held _one."

"Do you want to?" And without waiting for an answer, Valentine reached into his bag and brought out a shining silver seraph blade. The darker, more complex runes were what gave away that it held power much above the regular ones.

Melissa took it from him with the utmost care; almost as if she was worried it would spring to life and slice her head off. The moment her delicate fingers touched the hilt a dam of power broke inside her, making her face light up in delight. _Beautiful. Awe-inspiring. This is want I'm destined for, I'm sure of it._

When she noticed the blonde teen eyeing her with an amused expression, she quickly wiped the enlightened look off her face and handed the weapon back to him. "Holy shit, I don't even _want _to know how you managed to nab one of those."

"This is what we are being taught in my advanced combat class," he replied, scanning the blade quickly for any signs of damage before sheathing it and placing it back in his bag. "I was the first of the class given one last week."

"Really? I wonder why they only give them to kids in the senior class- it's only a souped-up version of a seraph blade." She rose, walked over to her skinny, towering bookcase and snatched a book and a pile of papers off the middle shelf. "Textbook or past report papers?"

Valentine smirked. "So the amazed expression that I saw on your face was just due to my presence, then?" Melissa glared at him. "Report papers, please."

She passed him the papers with a little too much force and he took them with a nod. They both took out pencils and started jotting down notes, taking almost two hours to complete the task. After filling almost four sheets of paper with fast, barely-legible information, Melissa slapped her pen down on the table with a sigh.

"If I have to write another note in the next five days, I give you full permission to kill me."

"Be careful what you say," Valentine murmured idly as he finished filling the page he was currently working on. When he finally placed his pen down, he eyed Melissa's notes cynically. "I may need an especially powerful rune to decipher that writing."

"Don't push your luck," the brunette warned, "I have full ability to kick you out of my house whenever the desire hits me." She grabbed Valentine's notes, eager to find fault in something of his, and almost crumpled the eleven pages of meticulous writing up.

"You've got to be kidding."

Valentine kept his face blank save for an eyebrow arch. "Say what you will, but the "asshole" is a good choice for school partner."

Melissa rested her chin upon her hands and stared at Valentine, making a huge deal of narrowing her eyes in an almost comical way. The latter tried to go back to writing, but to have a woman who was quite possibly insane staring you down was not a good working environment in the slightest.

"May I ask what you're doing without losing a limb?"

"Just trying to figure out what type of asshole you are... there's different kinds, you know... the overly loud, in-your-face one, no, I don't think so, maybe the poser acting like he's perfect... yeah, that's probably-"

Melissa's musings were cut off by laughter coming from the only other person in the room. She looked at him curiously as Valentine chuckled at her. _I'm not exactly sure what he found funny about that, he was kind of pissed earlier._

When his laughter finally subsided, the blonde haired boy looking at her in what Melissa could only classify as wonder.

"Melissa Ryder, you are a piece of work."

Melissa wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. She looked at him quizzically before slowly getting to her feet.

"You know, it's dark out and I'm completely sure that your badass skills will get you home just fine, but since it's also pretty late... I could make you dinner. To make up for you doing almost all the project, even though I hope you note that there was not a time that I _asked _you to."

Valentine smirked, not expecting this turn of events in the slightest, but expertly keeping the shock and interest off his face while agreeing. Melissa quickly grabbed a few different vegetables and half a chicken and started doing something she was much better at than taking notes- _cooking._

While she was busy frying the sliced chicken over a rune fire compliments of Valentine, the teen himself was lounging on the adjacent countertop, looking cool and relaxed in a way that most people could never achieve without trying. Melissa threw an irritable glance his way.

"Could you stop sitting there like an overpaid old husband and make yourself useful for a change?"

He looked up and brushed one stand of salty blonde hair out of his dark eyes in a manner that Melissa could only describe as sexy. She seriously considered throwing herself into the cooking fire the next moment.

"What would you like me to do, my lady?"

She made a show of gagging while pouring chopped vegetables and raw pasta in with the fowl. "Stop with the sickening comments for a change. Oh, and get your dirty butt off my counter."

"Your wish is my command," he said gallantly before jumping off the counter to land beside her in one smooth motion. For a very tall and broad man, he was amazingly graceful. Hard muscles were easily detectable under the thin linen of his uniform dress shirt. "My rear end has been called many things, but never "dirty" before."

"Yes, well there's a first for everything," Melissa sighed before lightly whacking his arm with her wooden cooking spoon, right where a particularly intricate Mark was drawn. "What's that one for?"

"Prowess in battle," Valentine stated, snatching the spoon from her and twirling it above his head tauntingly. Melissa quickly dumped the pasta dish onto two plain while plates before running at the taller teen and leaping far higher than any human could, trying and failing to recover her cooking spoon.

"That's my best spoon and it cost a lot, you idiot!"

"If I break it, I'll pay for it," he stated nonchalantly, taking a few steps back. The immortal young woman literally danced around him, looking for an opening to snatch her beloved cooking utensil. She finally gave up with the tactics and flung herself at Valentine, catching them both off guard and knocking them onto her hard wooden floor.

Valentine instinctively braced his arms underneath their bodies and took the brunt of their fall without flinching. Melissa then realized that she was practically lying on top of the handsome boy and snatched her spoon out of his hands before jumping off.

"I thought you said that you didn't like me, Melissa. Your actions there state otherwise."

Red flooded her cheeks before she grabbed their plates and slammed them down like her table had personally wronged her. "It was your immature antics that caused it in the first place!" She rolled her eyes. "I was only doing what I had to."

"And that was good," Valentine replied, all teasing airs gone. "You saw a chance and took it immediately. There are too many Nephilim these days that hold back." Melissa, about to take a bite of pasta, let the food fall back onto her plate in astonishment.

"Did you just compliment me?"

"I did. Praise where it is due, that is what my..." his voice suddenly became uncertain, and Melissa had to do another double take. "What my father had always taught me."

Even Melissa could sense the touchiness of the subject, and wisely decided not to press it. "Well, it would take a blind man to say that you do not possess skill, Mr Morgenstern."

It was Valentine's turn to act astonished, although Melissa was quite certain he was faking it, most likely to mock her. "Now, my ears may have deceived me, but I am certain that I just overheard _you _complimenting _me, _Miss Ryder."

She smirked, knowing it would annoy him. "That I did. _Praise where it is due." _Her imitation of Valentine's self-righteous tone was almost spot-on.

He returned to his dinner with raised eyebrows. "Now it seems that the impossible is upon us, I could almost see you calling me your friend."

Melissa scoffed. "_Friend?_ Nah, you're too annoying. I would call you... a frienemy."

"Frienemy?" He looked slightly confused.

"Friend plus enemy equals frienemy," she stated simply, noticing that he had finished his meal. "Now scram, before I take the "frie" away. I'm sure the people under that rock are missing you right about now."

He rose and gathered his notes and bag with a bemused expression. "Never let your guard down, do you?"

"I... huh?" That statement had hit a bit too close to home for Melissa.

"Nothing," he stated mysteriously as his polished shoes crossed the threshold and a moment later Melissa was alone in her small house. She stared at her empty plate for a few minutes before walking to the piano and starting to play notes, chords, that eventually worked their way into a song.

* * *

**Decided to do the same thing I'm doing with my other fic~ giving you the next chapter's title! So it'll be called "Letters to a Frienemy." Feel free to guess what's coming next :)**

**Reviews are love! 3**


	5. Letters to a Frienemy

Chapter four! It was originally supposed to be longer, but I decided to split it in two. Another thing- if you want to receive updates about this story and others by me, follow me on my new twitter accout- /xMadiE.

**I do not own the Mortal Instruments series, only Melissa, Aribelle and sort-of Valentine's mom ;D**

**Chapter Four**

**Letters to a Frienemy**

Melissa looked at the slip of paper in her hand, then at the fireplace, and seriously considered tossing the object in the flame for about the fiftieth time that night. She was sprawled in a very un-ladylike manner on her small overstuffed couch, watching the night's descending darkness contrast with the warm glow of the fire. The paper in her hand had been crumpled, straightened out and crumpled again throughout the afternoon and was currently rolled up almost beyond repair. The young woman glared at it, as though it would burst into flame with a venomous enough look, and sighed loudly.

"I _hate _that stupid, stupid boy."

_The bell had just tolled, and Melissa was helping Aribelle carry her particularly in-depth and large Living Sciences project, one that Melissa had expertly talked her way out of. The two girls were just maneuvering out of the way of the doorway when the threshold came up to meet Melissa's foot just a little too high. She stumbling, saving herself the embarrassment of falling but the same couldn't be said for Aribelle's project. It slipped out of her grasp and almost hit the floor, until its savoir appeared in the form of a large, strong hand._

_The project was out of danger and in Valentine's hands before Aribelle or Melissa had time to say a thing._

"_Oooh, Aribelle, your Prince Charming has come!" Melissa exclaimed in mock excitement. The blonde girl rolled her eyes at her friend before bouncing up to Valentine. _

"_Thanks!" She tried to take it back from him, but he effortlessly lifted it out of her short arm's reach._

"_I don't think you can be trusted with this, Aribelle. And I won't even begin to comment on Melissa's evident ability." He threw a teasing but good-natured smirk the brunette's way before pressing a small slip of paper into her hand. "I believe you'll find this helpful to our project." He then said something about meeting Aribelle at her dorm entrance and disappeared down the gilded corridor. _

"_Just because I'm short, doesn't mean you always have to use me as a show-off device, Morgenstern!" she called after him, but laughed when she met Melissa's approving gaze. "Hey, what did he give you? A love note?" She drew out the "o", making the sentence sound even more ridiculous, if possible._

_Melissa snorted and opened it, expecting a piece of information about seraph blades. In the same meticulous handwriting that she had been copying project information from in class all day was a mailing address. Since most native Alicantian children hadn't even heard of electricity, the only way to contact others save for face-to-face interaction was letters sent by the family's (or individual's, if wealthy) homing pigeons. Melissa's eyebrows arched, knowing exactly what he meant by this._

_Seeing Melissa's moment of annoyance as an opportunity, Aribelle snatched the paper and read it herself. _

"_Damn! Not a love letter, but almost as good! Who's Prince Charming is he now, huh?"_

_Melissa told Aribelle exactly what she thought of her "Prince Charming" in language so colourful a few third-year students stopped to pick up pointers. _

And now she was sitting at home almost six hours later, still debating whether to actually _send_ anything to him.

"Damnit! Making me act like a thirteen year old girl again, are you? But then... you're _also _making me talk to myself..." she slumped back down against the back of the couch.

Should she send him a letter, asking when they should meet again? He had effectively placed the ball completely in her court by that address giving move. And they were going to have to meet sometime, because failing your first school project _definitely _wasn't a good move, and even Melissa knew that. But she knew as well that she could go for this life and on into the next without even seeing his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face. _Shit, he's getting me worked up again, and he's not even here! Well, if you want to play a game, I'll play. _

She leaped from the couch and grabbed a piece of slightly-crumpled lined paper from the table, which had become a mess since their study session yesterday, and her favourite ballpoint pen. Sitting with a thump, the young woman began scribbling on it furiously, not caring (and almost hoping) that he probably wouldn't be able to read it. Once finished, she hastily gave her letter the once-over before whistling for her newly-acquired homing pigeon to fly over from its perch on her bedside lamp.

_I won't even waste a hi, but this is for Valentine-_

_Unlike some people, I've been really busy today _(a complete lie) _and haven't been able to grace your obvious intentions with a response until now. I was thinking that we should get this thing over with and finish as soon as possible, so are you free tomorrow? I would offer my house, but I'm almost positive that it was a scratch that I detected on my favourite cooking spoon. I'm not supposing you know anything about that, of course, but I don't want to take the risk. So the place is up to you. Have fun._

_Wishing that you find heat under that rock on cold spring nights-_

_Melissa_

She still thought that the "heat" thing was a bit too nice, but she reluctantly let it slide. Melissa, having had nothing at all to do today save for rehearsing a few songs, had taken it upon herself to train her new pet, now known as Jonathon Shadowhunter (Jon for short.) He now came when she whistled, but he had decided to take control of _what _exact place he perched on, resulting in Jon having a certain affinity for Melissa's head. She swore at the bird as she tied the letter to his leg with some difficulty, specified the place of delivery, and let it take flight out the window and into the warm spring air.

Melissa only had to wait half an hour for a response. Two pigeons swooped through her window, one perching on her head while the other had the decency to find rest on the table. Jon's companion was smaller, sleeker and bearing a letter.

"Aw Jon, it seems a bit early of you to be getting a girlfriend," Melissa commented, but grew silent as she read her letter.

_Melissa (and I will say hi)-_

_I will make sure not to make any other plans for tomorrow afternoon. I agree, it would be wise to finish it early. I have been putting my notes together tonight, so I believe that we could very well complete it tomorrow._

Melissa shot a glance at her few pages of notes that had been left untouched since yesterday, then glared at the letter as if it was Valentine himself. "That bastard!" she exclaimed, earning an indignant peck from his pigeon. The immortal woman swatted it irritably and returned to the letter.

_For a place- why don't you come to my house? I think, our differences aside, that you'll like it. _

_See you at school tomorrow-_

_Valentine_

_PS- How much was that spoon?_

Melissa smirked before getting out a fresh piece of paper.

_Your house it is, but don't annoy me too much, or a few things may go missing. By the way, that spoon cost around $150.00_

_-Melissa_

The spoon hadn't been over twenty-five, and of course there was no crack in the first place. But all Melissa could think of as she watched Valentine's pigeon fly out the window was that her plans tomorrow sounded suspiciously like a date.

"And you're going to his _house _now, too? You guys are practically a couple now!"

Melissa tried desperately not to hit her closest friend and almost failed. "Yeah, we're practically married. Please call me Mrs Morgenstern now."

"Call you what?"

She looked to the side and glared at the newcomer. "Always in the right place at the right time, huh Valentine?"

The blonde boy shrugged, smiling. The afternoon sun illuminated his fair skin and white teeth and turned Valentine's hair into a glowing halo. "I guess it's just one of my many talents."

The three students walked across the emerald front lawn of the Academy, dodging the many groups of students that had come out to enjoy the warm spring air. Melissa scrunched up the sleeves of her white collared uniform shirt, identical to Valentine's save for its fit and the embroidered "Ryder" on the left breast pocket. She absolutely abhorred the shirt and pleated skirt that made her the same as the next student, but she had to admit it was quite nice and breezy on a hot day.

"But you're not as skilled at that as annoying me, I have to say."

As Aribelle shook her head in exasperation, he replied, "According to you, I'm the top of the class at that."

Melissa nodded seriously, her eyes wide, and Valentine couldn't suppress a chuckle at the brunette's antics.

Their mutual friend decided to voice an observation. "It's only been two days and you two can actually stand each other, which means there's some serious progress being made. What gives?"

"I think I'm just getting used to him," Melissa explained, "You know, like that disgusting tasting food that you can stomach after eating a few times?"

Aribelle and Valentine exchanged amused glances and the former giggled slightly, while the latter murmured "Aribelle, _please _don't encourage her." He then took hold of Melissa's wrist and started to lead her in off the campus, while the golden haired girl headed to the residential area of the school.

"Hey, get off me!" Melissa yelled and whacked him on the shoulder as Aribelle turned and watched them leave.

_Melissa just whacked him... and _nobody _"whacks" Valentine. And then he laughed. _She hugged herself, though it had nothing to do with the breeze, and couldn't help the flash of painful longing that tore through her.

"So remind me again why we're not still at the school, in your dorm room or something?" Melissa asked as they made their way off the Academy campus and down one of Alicante's main streets, currently lined with a few carriages and the horses to pull them. Instead of continuing along, however, Valentine stopped and whistled, a piercing sound not unlike that which Melissa used to call Jon. It was not a pigeon that came running towards them, but a beautiful chestnut stallion.

"I'm returning to the Morgenstern manor for the weekend," he answered, and was mildly surprised when Melissa didn't have a smart comeback for him. He turned to see the girl in question gaping at the horse before tentatively approaching the creature and stroking it's forehead.

"He's beautiful," she breathed, "What's his name?"

"Raziel," Valentine spoke softly, moving beside Melissa to rest his palm on it's cheek affectionately. "Named for the Angel who gave birth to our race. Do you know how to ride?"

She sputtered indignantly. "Well, yes, I mean, a little-"

"I'll take that as a no," he sighed before easily hoisting the smaller girl up and onto the horse's back before expertly jumping onto it's back himself with the same dancer's grace that Melissa had observed earlier.

"Holy shit!" she swore and grabbed the horse's neck as Valentine reached from behind her to grab the leather reins and clicked his tongue, sending Raziel into a swift trot.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern as they sped along the streets of Alicante on horseback.

Melissa snorted. "As okay as I'll ever be, speeding through the city with some maniac. How far's your mansion?"

"Far enough to need transportation other than walking," he stated. "Melissa, you seem as though you're about to fall off."

She arched her eyebrows in response. "I'd rather hit the dust then have you steady me with your arms, you know."

"Fair enough," Valentine replied with an air of mystery as they exited the city and rode along a wide, dirt road that crossed the seemly endless green countryside.

It took less time than she expected to reach the Morgenstern estate, and Melissa was more than content to gaze at the scenery as it flash by. At least, much more content with that than make conversation with the boy riding behind her. It was bad enough pressed against his hard, perfectly muscled chest with only a few thin layers on fabric between them. On top of that, did she really have to make small talk as well?

"We're here," was the only thing he uttered as they neared a beautifully ornate black wrought-iron gate, complete with roses moulded between the posts and spiralling words inscribed on the top in a language Melissa interpreted as either Greek or Latin. It was also left open, something that she suspected was a rare occurrence.

"Your family is pretty rich, huh?" she stated as they passed through the gate and started up a winding dirt entrance way.

"You could say that," he replied softly, "Morgenstern is an old name."

There was no reply to that, for when he looked at her in surprise, his companion was entranced by the gorgeous manor that had appeared in front of them. Most of the ground floor's walls were covered in a protective casing of stone walls, while the upper floors sported beautiful deep brown walls. A darker trim surrounded all doors and windows, giving the manor an imposing but regal feel. She had expected nothing less from Valentine's family members. Melissa could spot a structure of the same decor that connected to the east side of the building that she could safely assume was the stables. The three other sides of the manor were surrounded by a grand wrap-around porch.

"Okay, I take that back," she said as Valentine "woahed" Raziel and brought him to a stop. "Your family has enough money to feed a small city for a year."

The blonde teen jumped gracefully off the horse while Melissa followed with a little less grace. "It seems as though I have finally impressed Melissa Ryder."

"Actually, your house impressed me," she pointed out stubbornly as Valentine led the way to the front door.

They were met by a man dressed in butler uniform. "Good afternoon, Mr Morgenstern. And who may your guest be?"

"Melissa Ryder," he replied, and the butler gave her a curt bow as Valentine led her past him and down the short, gilded entrance hall. It was decorated quite similar to the way the Academy was, and Melissa wondered if the same person was hired to do both. "Mr Morgenstern," she scoffed as they walked, but her companion had no time to reply because a distraction in the form of a woman appeared at the end of the hall.

She was middle-aged, clothed in a floor-length gown of light lavender that complimented her light eyes and stunning platinum blonde hair that Melissa knew she'd seen before. It was then that she realized this woman was no servant.

"Valentine," she stated, sweeping her son with sharp eyes before moving them to the girl beside him. Melissa met her gaze, keeping her face neutral.

"I did not expect you home this early. And with a girl." Said by others, the sentence could have taken on a playful tone, but with Mrs Morgenstern there was an air of sadness around her, one that made her seem almost breakable. While the sharpness in her eyes could have once been a sparkle, now it resembled shattered glass.

"Yes, Melissa and I have a project to work on, Mother. If you'll excuse us," Valentine started directing Melissa around his mother, until she put out a hand to stop them. Faded scars of runes adorned her bare arms, and Melissa was sure that, once upon a time, she had been a great Shadowhunter with exceptional reflexes. A nagging in the back of her mind told her for some reason that wasn't possible, but the dark haired girl ignored it.

"You're not planning on introducing us?" Valentine's mother asked. There was a reprimand in there, but it covered a small amount of motherly affection.

Melissa inwardly winced. Introductions always involved last names, and while most of the students at the Academy were oblivious, almost any adult you talked to was aware of the Shadowhunter name histories, even of their immediate history. They'd know that Ryder was one of the more disgraced names in Idris.

Valentine conducted the introductions. "Mother, this is Melissa Ryder, a friend from the Academy. Melissa, this Bellasae Morgenstern, my mother." Melissa was about to comment on how he had used the term "friend," but was stopped in her tracks by the way his mother was gazing at her.

"Ryder?" the faint whisper had come from Bellasae's throat. Melissa, her better judgment thrown out the window, was instantly defensive.

"I know my parents just upped and left a few decades ago, but it's hardly my fault, and anyone who accuses it of being mine is a loaded piece of-"

Valentine cut in, his eyes frighteningly intense. "Melissa-"

"You shut your-"

"No," Mrs Morgenstern said quietly, and still both parties heard it. "I admire your spirit, Miss Ryder, but that was not what I meant."

Melissa's eyes widened. Adults didn't usually "admire her spirit," as she had put it, but her comments had even earned her a small smile from the imposing woman. _And I thought he came from a strict, older family..._

The next thing she heard cut all trains of thought off.

"What I meant, was that I knew your parents."

* * *

I'm not completely sure where this story is going, so if you at all can I'd absoluetely LOVE you to review! Tell me how I'm doing, if the characters are in-character, how you like Melissa, anything! It would really make my day, and help me tons.

**Next chapter called "Wine and Truth" coming soon!**


	6. Wine and Truth

Hello there~ Chapter five, that's really all to say. And that the MI series is now going to have a whole new trilogy written! WOOHOO~! CoFA is gonna be released on my birthday. Long time... :P

**Don't own the Mortal Instruments... no, not even the cup. I don't think *checks kitchen cupboard***

Chapter Five

**Wine and Truth**

Melissa was speechless, and that was something that didn't happen all that often.

"My _parents?" _she asked incredulously when she had recovered. "I think you're mistaken. I mean, there must be a few Ryders in Idris, you know."

"But I see it in you," Bellasae Morgenstern pressed, the sadness that already permeated the air around her intensifying. "Her spirit. Vivienne's."

Melissa's arsenal of protests died in her throat when those words were uttered. _This woman- Valentine's mother- knew my parents to some extent. _She resisted the almost overpowering urge to cling to anything that was close to her kin, knowing that she had lost that chance a long time ago.

Regaining composure, she inquired, "And how exactly do you know my mother?" while keeping her eyes guarded.

"We were the closest two people could ever be- we were parabatai. She was always ready to speak her opinion, no matter who it offended, that Vivienne Amsteel- who later became Vivienne Ryder."

_Parabatai. _The one that accompanied you in every battle, small or large, and that possessed fighting skill and style that complimented your own. Sometimes referred to as your other half- a few Shadowhunters had been known to commit suicide following their parabatai's death. It was not a law to have a parabatai, but you rarely saw a Nephilim without one. The Academy only suggested choosing parabatai at graduation, but many students had quite a good idea who that person was much earlier. And the woman who had known her mother in that way was standing right in front of Melissa.

"Paraba-" the shocked girl started, but Valentine, who had been silent throughout this conversation, cut in.

"We do have to be working on our project, Mother," he murmured, touching Melissa's bare arm gently. For once, she had no smart comment for him and started walking in the direction he steered her, while Bellasae bowed her head before retreating to another part of the massive manor.

The silence only lasted for so long, however. "_Parabatai? _Why didn't you _tell _me?" Melissa asked Valentine with a note of anger as they continued down the hall, stopping in front of the heavy door leading into the parlour. "Like, I don't know, maybe just _mention _that your mom knew mine while remarking on the fact that I don't have a clue how to ride a horse?"

Valentine arched his eyebrows. "And how do those topics connect, exactly?"

"Oh, I don't know!" she said in a raised voice, attempting to hit the door out of her way with a bit more force than necessary. After her third try, her companion came to it's rescue and held it open for her, earning himself a glare.

"I know you're angry, but there's no need to take it out on the decor," he stated. Melissa snorted and plunked her shoulder bag down on the floor with a thunk. "I knew my mother had a parabatai, of course, but not once did she mention that individual's name."

"And you expect me to believe that," she scoffed, but there was a noticeable change in her temperament, and no angry comments followed. She was waiting for him to ask the painfully obvious question- "_Where are your parents?"- _that she saw was on the tip of his tongue, but surprisingly no questions came her way. The two Nephilim each took out their completed report sections and exchanged them, looking over the other's for any mistakes they might have overlooked.

"You have an interesting viewpoint, Melissa," he stated after a few minutes, "But then again, you always do."

"Well thanks, I think. And my report's pretty good, huh? _Definitely _not something you would construct at two in the morning."

"Of course not," Valentine murmured with a shake of his head. "Are you ambidextrous, by any chance?"

"Huh?" Melissa glanced down at her left hand, which held the pencil. The hand that was closest to it had grabbed the writing utensil out of instinct, and she now remembered writing with her right hand on Wednesday.

"Yeah, I am. Why?"

"It's rare. And extremely valuable for some kinds of weapons," was all he would say before returning to the project at hand.

Night was falling once again when the two Academy students pronounced their weapons project complete (Valentine reluctantly, Melissa just containing her immense relief.) Bored, the immortal woman snatched the first thick, leather bound book on the table and read the title out loud.

"_The Circle of Raziel. _Funny, I've never seen that name on a history book before."

"It's not a history book," Valentine replied slowly, as if testing her reaction. "I, with the help of others, wrote the book myself."

"Genius, Shadowhunter prodigy and _author? _Now I've seen it all..." she trailed off, noticing that the book _did _look slightly homemade when looked at closely enough. The _Circle _of Raziel? Could this be what her classmates were discussing? Melissa made a mad grab for the book but Valentine held it expertly out of her reach.

"Could you swear your unconditional obedience to the Circle and it's leader?"

"To the Circle, maybe." She raised one eyebrow. "To it's leader, hell no."

Deciding to ignore the last part, Valentine pressed the "maybe."

"You have no idea of it's principles. You would sign yourself up for something without knowing what it was?" His eyes, black as coal, bore into her bright emerald ones, questioning and impossibly intense. If there was one word Melissa would have chosen to describe Valentine, it would be intense. He put everything he had into everything he did- there was no in betweens for the natural leader- and shone like a beacon at anything he put his mind to. And Melissa could sense that the group that he claimed leadership to, the Circle, was where his amazing intensity peaked.

She shifted her eyes nervously, suddenly uncomfortable. "I was joking, you know."

A silence descended upon them, but it wasn't what you would call awkward. When Melissa thought about it, there was no real "awkward silences" between them, because they were both people who were content with silence, no matter how heavy.

Although Melissa was also one to get bored quickly. She rose from the table and paced across the room, the slightly dusty Persian rug soft under her thin-soled black street shoes. Taking a quick survey of the parlour, she immediately found a piece of furniture that caught her interest- a beautiful full grand piano.

She watched her reflection as it drew closer in the instrument's highly polished surface, until the immortal woman was standing right in front of it. Not seeking permission first, she sat at the bench and poised her slender fingers above the ivory keys, her hand instinctively forming the shape of the C major chord. A bright, cheerful melody filled the room as she played with the sound, morphing it into both the dominant key of G and the subdominant key of F before it modulated into it's relative minor, A. Using both the dominant and subdominant keys of that as well, the melody turned from warm to haunting. Adding discordance into the improvised song by using a few notes from the cords of B and G sharp minor, Melissa was completely oblivious to the outside world until a larger hand descended upon the keyboard an octave below where she was playing at middle C.

Valentine, using the notes of A, E and D minor, wove a more simple melody into her complex one, and when she returned to C major, he complemented it with a switch to E sharp major. They played, two parts of one whole, for a few more minutes until Melissa sounded a cadence, and Valentine soon followed suit with one in his main key. Perfectly timed, they ended on the same beat in a mixture of pure sound that was as complementary as yin and yang. A beat after, Melissa looked up at him and smirked.

"You play too?" she asked, surprised but not letting her face show it.

"Yes, Captain Obvious," he replied, smiling as he watched her smirk morph into a look of competitive determination.

Melissa huffed. "You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm. If you're so good, then why don't we have a little competition? In anything else you'd kick my ass, but in music, I think I have a pretty good chance of beating you."

"You're quite right," he murmured, and thought back to the many pages of sheet music littered around her piano like fallen leaves. Nevertheless, Valentine was not one to back down from a challenge. Melissa watched a similar expression cross her partner's face. She wasn't sure if it was spurred on by a competitive nature or manly pride, but she was more than willing to compete with either.

"But I accept your challenge. What is our wager?"

"Wager?" she asked. "I didn't know there was one."

Valentine smiled devilishly, a few strands of hair falling over his dark eyes. "Everything is more enjoyable when there is something to gain," he stated. "Or lose."

Leaning against the piano with his crisp white uniform shirt tucked into pressed black slacks, he was the picture of carelessness, confidence and control. Melissa, a worthy opponent clothed in her pleated schoolgirl skirt and fitted white uniform blouse covered by a grey hoodie, rose from the piano bench and walked to Valentine, stopping only a few inches away. Watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest for a few seconds, she then looked directly up into his impossibly dark eyes. The tension in the air was almost tangible between the tall boy and the girl that only came up to his shoulder.

"If I win, I get something from you, and if you win, you get something from me. Anything your heart could possibly desire." Her voice was low, on edge, and there was a dangerous sparkle to her emerald eyes. As he nodded in agreement the same glint could be seen, mirrored, in his own.

Melissa smiled. "Show me what you've got."

Not wasting a moment, he side-stepped out of the area she had enclosed him in and took a seat on the piano bench Melissa had so recently vacated. She separated her chair from the table and took a seat, leaning back in a way that was likely not good for the piece of furniture with crossed arms and an expectant look.

Striking, sharp complementing sounds flew from his fingertips, a sweet melody that held a barely concealed dangerous edge. As he progressed into the second phrase, the pitch grew and then lowered in staccato notes that sounded both discordant and smooth at the same time. No mistakes reached Melissa's seasoned ear as Valentine moved through the piece, and he added touches of dynamics that many pianists didn't bother with. There were few repeats and as he neared the ending bars, Melissa turned her gaze from his fingers to the way the soft candlelight made his sharp jaw even more pronounced and set his eyes ablaze in black fire. There was elegance in the air surrounding him as he furrowed his brow slightly in concentration. When the last note was played, Melissa clapped.

"Beethoven? Classic. I was always one for pieces played in G minor. Although... I have to boast my victory now, Mr Morgenstern."

Valentine stood and paced forwards to face his challenger. Wearing the same devilish expression, he caught Melissa's outstretched hand and smirked.

"I have never seen your competitive side come out, Miss Ryder, and I daresay I'm intrigued. Why are you so sure? Not impressed with my music?"

For the very first time, she couldn't battle the blush that spread itself across her cheeks. What would it be like, to have a person hold you like this and know that they would always be there? What if that person was the one standing in front of her? Her eyes, possessed with a mind of their own, raked over every perfect, chiselled feature of Valentine Morgenstern's face. As much as she tried to deny it... he really was beautiful. _No, stop it! He's trying to distract me, the bastard! _Melissa yanked her hand away from his.

"Oh, believe me. You'll see the moment I place my hands on that instrument."

Taking her place once more before the grand piano, she poised her hands in what Valentine analyzed to be an almost _professional _manner and said, "Watch and learn, Valentine. Watch and learn."

"I have eyes for no one but you," he replied in a suave manner, for the sole purpose of, again, making her lose her cool. She was prepared for it this time, and his soft words were met by a raised middle finger.

And then Melissa Ryder started playing. Starting with a simple chord and a few broken triads, Valentine smiled confidently. Until her hands started playing many complicated scale patterns faster than he had thought possible.

It was a virtual roller coaster of sound. She found her mind blank, riding every rise and fall of the melody, and eventually losing herself in it's blissful, infinite depths. Moving her hands faster than any human could ever hope to achieve, the notes flowed from her fingers and into the air like thousands of insects dancing to an ocean of music. It was the hardest piece she knew, but had no fears of error- playing had become a part of her so long ago; it had risen from second nature to pure instinct. The melody morphed, still light and airy but now containing a few, louder notes of punctuation. As it continued, she forgot where she was, who was watching her and even any concept of time. Such was it when she played.

Melissa was actually shocked when it came to a close beneath her very fingertips. She rose, still riding the high that music always bestowed upon her, and Valentine was already in front of her.

"I would be regretful that you claim victory... but if it means that I am allowed to listen, I would be happy if you compete and win more often." His smile was genuine, and it involuntarily stole her breath away. "You may play it better than Chopin himself. Where did you learn to play like that?"

Melissa tutted disapprovingly. "Any questions will have to wait until after my prize! Now, what do I want...?"

Valentine watched as her expression grew almost childish. He had never seen this side of the girl standing in front of him before, and it intrigued him to no end.

"Whatever you want," he covered the room with a sweep of his arm to prove his point. "A bargain is a bargain."

Emerald eyes lit up as an idea came to her. Melissa paced quickly to the other side of the room, rummaging through the tall oak cabinet there while the owner of the manor watched; slightly amused that she was already treating his house as if she owned it. Taking a seat on the dark leather couch in front of the fire, Valentine saw her dark head reappear from the depths of the cabinet as she presented her prize with a flourish.

"Perfect!" There was a sealed bottle of red wine clutched in her grasp.

"I will have to draw the line at illegal," he stated, eyebrows raised farther than Melissa thought they could go. She answered with the signature smirk.

"There's something I forgot to tell you, Valentine. I am actually twenty-one years of age... I just wanted to try my hand at picking up younger guys."

His jaw dropped a few millimetres in disbelief as the shorter girl laughed. "If you believed that, well... I'm not exactly sure, actually. I'm twenty-one, but really didn't want to tell the Academy authorities that detail. Now-" and she produced a bottle opener from the cabinet with her other hand. The cork burst from the bottle's neck with a sharp pop.

Valentine shook his head. "It seems that there are many things I don't know about you, Melissa. Your obvious skill as a pianist, and now your age. Care to enlighten me?" He rose from the couch and joined her at the cabinet, producing the very thing that her failed search had been for- wine glasses. Snatching the bottle from her hand, he poured an equal amount of the blood-red liquid into both cups.

"I didn't know your mother would be joining us," she shot at him with a grin.

"I believe this is private property," Valentine replied, lifting his off the cabinet shelf and taking a delicate sip.

Melissa looked at the crimson wine skeptically before returning her gaze to him. "And I believe that you are sixteen. And I will never forgive you if you send me away with a bottle of fake alcohol that's less than four hundred dollars."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He gazed at her strangely, as if he was calculating something. She could practically hear the clogs of his mind, always turning. Always thinking.

Valentine raised his crystal glass. "To Idris."

"To Idris," she echoed, clinking her glass with his before tasting her prize. It ran smoothly over her tongue, numbing her mind and senses just barely, but in a beautiful way.

The two Nephilim made their way to the same couch that Valentine had so recently vacated and sat, wine in one hand and questions at the ready.

"As I inquired previously, you have quite a few things you haven't shared yet. You have your prize- will you answer me now?" the stunningly blonde boy asked, seeming generally curious. Melissa scrutinized him- Valentine didn't seem to carry ulterior motives, but he was the one person she could never truly be sure with.

She knew she was playing an extremely dangerous game by toying with actually telling him. It was as if Melissa Ryder lived two separate lives- one an antisocial young woman with a smart remark for everything, and the other... the most highly paid, exclusive club dancer in Alicante, who went by the stage name Belielle. Writing every song she sung herself, and often accompanying her own vocals with piano when she wasn't dancing, she was the one that every club worth visiting sought out as many times a month as possible. And she hadn't told another soul in Idris.

But as Valentine Morgenstern's onyx eyes bored into hers, Melissa knew that she was going to do it. Her mind was often a mystery to her, but this almost over the line. Giving this knowledge to someone she didn't even like? But it was all part of the daring moves and strange quirks that made up Melissa Ryder. And possibly influenced just a little by the wine.

"So you really interested in how I can plunk at a piano better than most?" The sentence was made more skeptical with an eyebrow arch. "Or are you just mortified that someone actually beat you at something?"

"Possibly, a little of both," he replied smoothly.

"I see. Well, let's make this a little game. I'll give you three hints, and if you can get it, good for you. Ready?"

He merely nodded.

"Okay." Melissa took a deep breath, merely for comedic effect. "I have black hair."

Valentine's bemused expression grew. "Your self-knowledge is truly unrivalled, Melissa."

"Shut up!" She threw the words at him almost lightly. "Just wait, you'll see. Two... I'm never free on a Saturday night. And no, it's not because of my amazing good looks. Kind of."

Shock and finally understanding both registered so briefly on the boy opposite her's face that she doubted that she had even seen the emotions at all. His answer explained the slip in his iron control, though, and shock was plastered over Melissa's face as Valentine surprised her yet again.

"You are Belielle," he breathed, and his face held only an intense conviction. If all else came crashing down around her, Melissa knew she could always count on one thing- Valentine never doubted. He expressed an unconditional belief in everything he pursued, and that was when she started to see why he drew people to him like bees to honey. It was one trait the immortal woman knew she would never possess.

"Only another name," she said without enthusiasm as she reclined carelessly on the dark couch. "A way to make money, so to speak. How did you guess so fast?" Melissa, for once, was generally curious.

Valentine took his eyes from hers for a moment, looking almost reluctant to reply. The answer came a second after, though.

"I watched a performance of yours. It was..." his voice grew softer, a change that was barely detectable. "Unforgettable."

"I'm hoping that's a good use of the word. And hey- drinking wine _and _sneaking into clubs? God, if only the teachers knew about their perfect little Valentine." Melissa shook her head in mock dismay.

"It was a sixteen-and-over club," he replied dryly.

"I see." Valentine sipped his wince and turned his gaze to the fireplace, not saying any more on the subject. Melissa, who was grateful for the absence of personal questions, took in the darkening room. Already composed primarily of dark wood and soft brown and gold tones, the flickering light from the many witchlight candles set the room aglow. The boy beside her blended in perfectly with his almost old fashioned dress sense. It was as if he was the centerpiece, and the room had been designed around him.

"You know, I think someone would be pretty unhappy if they knew about this." Her wine was almost finished, and there was a slight dusting of pink spread across her pale cheeks.

Valentine's hair was illuminated in a burst of white as he turned to look her way.

"Your girlfriend." Melissa said it as though she was commenting on the weather.

For a moment the composed Shadowhunter looked completely stunned before chuckling lightly. "That someone is non-existent, so I do not see how they could be angered by it."

Eyebrows shot up to meet black bangs. "Really? You mean, the Academy's hottest bachelor really is a bachelor?"

"Yes, and I have no doubt you will be surprised that I have never had a relationship with anyone."

His prediction was right, until Melissa fell back into the couch with a knowing look. "Oh, I see. Who would've thought. You play for _that _team."

Valentine couldn't help but allow his face to show his exasperation. "No, Melissa. Love is just..." his tone grew thoughtful, "Merely a luxury I cannot afford. In the future, possibly, but not now."

She didn't have a comment for that. Looking to the bay window to her right, she could just make out the reflection of a dark haired girl and a strikingly blonde boy sitting side by side, appearing as though they had known each other for quite a long time.

* * *

Next chapter title will be "Ladies of the Circle."

**EDIT: The songs played by both Melissa and Valentine are actual, well-known piano pieces. See if you can guess which ones!**

**Please please, if you have a spare moment use it to tell me what you think! I'd love feedback on this story. Read&Review! :)**


	7. Ladies of the Circle

Sorry for the delay! Summer is always quite hetic here. But now, we finally see some plot in here! Stories that don't start the plot for many chapters bug me, so I'm so glad that this stopped bugging me after this chapter. Enjoy~

**The song played by Valentine in the last chapter is "Bagatelle in G minor" by Beethoven, while Melissa's is "Fantasie-Impromtu" by Chopin. Look them up to hear them!**

**Don't own the Mortal Instruments, just Melissa and Leila.**

* * *

**Ladies of the Circle**

Light shone like a star in her eyes, blinding her to the massive crowd as the music hit its final note. She waited for the light to die- Belielle didn't bow. Belielle stood proudly at the center of the stage while the crowd bowed to _her._

Six-inch heels as silent as death on the stage surface, Melissa crept off the stage, her home away from home, and was brought back to the real world once more. She thanked her Nephilim ability of silence, since no human would have been able to accomplish the exit she had just made. Melissa was confident that no one could ever hope to steal her heart because it already belonged to another. To the music. It was her first love and her only, the notes of different keys flowing up and over her lithe body faster and more sensually than any man's hands could ever hope to. The crowd's cheers and the sweat making her back slick were the tokens she took from her lover. She didn't need friends, or even family- sound was all she required to feel like she was a part of this world. Like she _belonged._

"Miss Belielle! I have only been able to call to you now because, well, I was _speechless!" _A tall, impossibly thin man with a small goatee and no Marks to speak of tried valiantly to catch Melissa in a hug, which she expertly dodged. She shared a certain sense of kinship with her manager. He had dropped out of the Academy at only fourteen to pursue music, his interest of choice. Almost everyone inhabiting Alicante, and even all of Idris, was a Shadowhunter and anyone who decided to walk a different path was slightly looked down upon, no matter of race or origin. Most Nephilim believed it was their sole duty to serve on the quest that Jonathon Shadowhunter had began, and anyone who shirked this duty was taking advantage of the power that had been bestowed upon them. Melissa, while not brought up to think that way, still admitted to doing so, and considered her dancing career to be more of a distraction and means of making the money that was required to reach her true goal. But nonetheless, Randy held many of the same views on music as she did, and she couldn't help but enjoy his company. It didn't necessarily mean he had to know that, though.

"It was nothing," she stated, running a hand through her dark waves after discarding of a blonde wig and freeing her hair of its encasement in a tight ballet bun. "Just what I'm paid to do every weekend."

"Amazing nonetheless," he murmured, watching idly as she collected her street attire and dashed into the backstage bathroom to change. Belielle's VIP backstage dressing room was outfitted with only her basic needs- a couch, bathroom and vanity area the size of a small walk-in closet. Randy had offered to make it similar to a suite located in a rich Nephilim family's manor, but Melissa had declined vehemently. Her views of luxury were mirrored in the clothing she emerged from the bathroom in. Dark jeans ripped in several places covered her toned dancer's legs while a one-size-fits-all t-shirt was draped over her upper body, "Do I look like I care?" printed on its front in bold white letters. Randy's keen eye noticed how the devil-may-care dress style clashed painfully with her smokey, alluring eyeliner and perfect crimson lipstick- remnants of the night's performance. He sighed as he scrutinized Melissa, eyes brimming with pity.

"Do I smell or something?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow and scuffing one grimy sneaker on the pristine tiled floor.

Randy laughed, short and clipped. "I really need to give you a style lesson, dear. And it wouldn't cost a thing- well, only one thing."

She was curious, but held no intention of following up on the offer. "What would that be? My soul?"

Surprisingly, her manager's voice only became sweeter. "No, your real name, _Miss Belielle."_ A strange look passed over his thin face, causing his eyes to darken. While it only caused his overall expression to look wide-eyed and curious, a suddenly overpowering sense of _wrong _almost made Melissa sick.

"No can do," she breathed hastily as she snatched her bag and vaulted over the low couch in one smooth movement. It seemed as though the intense Academy lessons had paid off after all.

"What about our evening drink, dear?" he called after her, no trace of any earlier weirdness in his voice, though still cracked with years of smoking. "Dear" was usually met with a flip of the bird, but this time Melissa kept walking with her eyes focussed straight ahead. _What the hell was that? _She found that she might not want to know the answer to that question.

So immersed in her thoughts was she that even her tuned Shadowhunter hearing didn't warn her of the figure emerging from the next corner. Black hair met blonde and only a hand slammed against the building's wall saved Melissa from tripping over the shorter girl in front of her.

"Melissa!" Aribelle exclaimed happily, knowing better than to attempt a hug.

"No, it's Jesus," the dry reply stated, "He's just temporarily using my body as a median between this world and the next."

Inside her mind was whirling. Could her friend have witnessed her earlier exit from the club only a few paces behind? Melissa's eyes searched Aribelle's posture as she laughed at the dark-haired girl's joke. Mouth upturned with light eyes meeting her own, her friend didn't show any sign of knowing Melissa's secret. She felt her body deflate in relief. There was only one other who knew both identities now, and Melissa had no qualms with murdering him painfully if he were to tell another soul.

But the dreaded question came nonetheless.

"What're you doing down here so late at night? I don't think this is where you live..." Aribelle's expression turned teasingly accusing. "Not that you've ever _invited me over _before. That privilege was reserved for Valentine only, eh?"

"And believe me; he annoyed me every minute he spent in my humble abode. He got a few bruises too."

Golden hair glowed in the light of the semi-bright kerosene street lamps and complemented skeptical sea green eyes nicely. "Actually, I heard he got dinner. And not a bruise to speak of."

Melissa made a mental note to give Valentine the deserved bruise as soon as possible. "I'm sure he stretches the truth, just like a normal person," she sighed. "And it's not that late, only a few minutes to eight." The days were getting longer, and the first star had only peeked through the heavy blanket of night half an hour ago.

"You're right, the night is still young!" Aribelle was grinning, and Melissa's female instinct knew that the girl in front of her had gotten an idea. "Hey, you up for a little fun?"

"Actually, I'm kind of tir-" she was cut off before she could utter another syllable.

"We could sneak you back into the dorm with me! I'll introduce you to some more of my Circle friends. The ladies in the ninth year _rock!"_ Once the idea was voiced, the bouncy teenage girl couldn't take no for an answer. "It'll be awesome; we can try our badass Shadowhunter skills for real! I'll send ahead for them to come down and meet us in the courtyard. With food! And if we get caught, it won't be bad, it'll be hilarious! Imagine the looks on the teacher's faces if they saw us! But it's not like we _want _to get caught, of course."

It was like trying to slow the rush of water in a broken dam. Melissa was helpless in Aribelle's iron grasp as she led the tired young woman down the street. Her dark curls whipped her face as strong breaths of wind passed over the duo and she could just make out the Academy's imposing outline up ahead, silhouetted by the last traces of the fiery red sunset.

"Oh, and by the way? We really need to get you some professional shopping help," Aribelle added, eyeing the other's clothing choice with distaste. Giving in to her fate, Melissa just resisted covering her face with her hands and sighing.

Slipping into the Academy's grounds unnoticed was simple enough. The imposing gates and fence that scraped the heavens was only present at the front, and skirting around the perimeter of the grounds only involved some hardcore bushwhacking and a few shallow cuts. Melissa wiped a trickle of dried blood from her cheek with her sweater sleeve and thanked the Angel that she wasn't one of her fake-blonde pumped-up back-up dancers who couldn't live without heels and had never fought a demon in their life. Not that she had either at this point, but at least she didn't appreciate the beautiful glass towers of the city for the sole reason of the shiny reflection they cast upon her hair.

Aribelle scaled the wrought-iron five foot fence in a two-part leap that would have made a human gape and landed with the grace of a gazelle on the lush, neglected grass of the Academy's back property.

"Not bad, Jonathon Shadowhunter," Melissa commented, her heart twisting with a new jealousy. No matter what her natural ability was, she couldn't completely accept that she would never rival her new classmate's knowledge. Nine years could never even hope to compete with a week, or even a year and a half. That was the countdown to Melissa's graduation, unless she was held back.

"I had a pretty good teacher." Aribelle smiled happily. "Need a hand?"

Her slightly over-inflated ego could never have handled it. "Not on your life."

Like a kid preparing for a particularly difficult track and field jump, the immortal woman felt her feet step back. This wasn't the first time in the week that Melissa had wished she had asked the accursed demon for super strength instead.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered and full-out ran for the fence. Picturing a distracted version of herself running head-on into the iron bars, she couldn't help but chuckle a second before her feet launched her body into the air.

It felt like flying. Sailing through the crisp night air over the upward-facing triangles and adorned the object's surface, Melissa Ryder glanced down at the spikes and felt like telling them to suck it. Although her tough, seasoned Shadowhunter charade was dented considerably when one reached a little too high and caught an unsuspecting sneaker, flipping Melissa headfirst and slamming her against the damp grass with force to spare.

"_Damn!" _She spat that and many other, worse things as she lay on the ground nursing a twisted ankle and damaged pride. Aribelle was by her side at once.

"Melissa, you idiot! You totally needed help with that. Are you okay?" She held a slightly tanned hand out and Melissa took it, rising painfully to her feet and brushing the unwanted greenery off her otherwise unharmed clothes. The Shadowhunter-in-training was glad that no one else but her quirky friend was here to witness her mortifying fall. It made her question herself a moment later as she nodded to Aribelle and gazed up at the castle in front of her. One of her traits that she was proud of was the blasé attitude and I-don't-give-a-crap-what-you-think frame of mind that she was never found without.

Like almost every school on the planet, the Alicante Shadowhunter Academy was a school system based on grades, known there as years. Starting no later or earlier than eight years of age, the typical Nephilim child was sent to board at the famed training institute for the next ten years of their life. Learning everything from physical combat training to Nephilim history to Lore of Heaven, the students were allowed to go to their parent's country manors for the weekend or even for an afternoon in the city, depending on their age. Not that most students would need to leave Academy grounds. The castle was better outfitted than most mansions, and included several eateries, a massive library and even an outdoor stone-paved pool. Even this late on a Saturday night, kids could still be found playing tag in the main courtyard or laughing with their friends over dinner at the small cafe. Melissa was welcome on its beautiful campus in the daytime, but when evening fell and curfew started, only registered dorm occupants were permitted on the grounds.

They entered the main courtyard now, Aribelle waving inconspicuously to a few acquaintances sitting underneath the biggest tree on the grounds. Breaking out of the tiled courtyard surface like a heavenly pillar, the mighty oak tree was a landmark of the Academy and often the meeting place of the Circle, if Melissa had heard correctly.

She was ushered over to a leafy corner, where two other girls that Melissa vaguely recognized were seated. One, with light hair that was made darker by the night, was conversing animatedly with the female across from her. Red tresses that contained a fiery shine that the night couldn't hope to dim fell in loose, untamed waves over her left shoulder as she nodded along with her friend's words. If the pair noticed the other girls approaching them, their conversation didn't show it.

"...and I know he's bound and determined to hunt down these vamps, but seriously, it's going to be _dangerous! _I mean, full grown? Who are we kidding? And I don't think that we ever got a full explanation of what these dudes did wrong," the lighter haired one said with passion.

Red hair nodded, a smooth expression failing to mar her beautiful freckled face. "I agree, Lel," she said, a calm presence balancing out her friend's agitation.

Her next sentence was directed at the newcomers. "Hey Aribelle- and the new girl!" Said by another it would have sounded insulting, but the way the words flowed from the girl's mouth like smooth honey could only be described as soothing. "You two make it in okay?"

Aribelle only nodded with a secret smile plastered over her face after she received a scathing glare from her companion.

"I've seen you around, but I can't say we've met," the other girl added, all airs of annoyance vanished. She spoke with a light tone and a grin, the personification of good-natured. Melissa was stunned. _These are the people in Valentine's Circle?_

"Introduction time!" Aribelle trilled the last syllable with glee. "Okay, this is the beautiful Leila Greenstone-" she gestured to the blonde girl with curls that spilled down her back, "And this is the lovely Jocelyn Fairchild." She waved to the tall redhead who dwarfed Aribelle even when she was sitting down. Jocelyn waved back with a smile, and then absentmindedly traced one of the many runes that decorated her ivory complexion. From the amount of Marks that were traced along her arms, shoulders and even legs, Melissa immediately knew a fact- Jocelyn was _good._

Her own name ripped her out of her thoughts. "And this is Melissa Ryder! If you see past her tough-girl exterior, she's actually kind of cool." Melissa elbowed her friend with a snort and Aribelle playfully punched her back.

"Wasn't she the one with you and Valentine this week?" Leila inquired. She flipped her stele in her hand while she spoke, a bad habit that Melissa would become familiar with later.

Aribelle laughed. "If this was the mundane world, you would be writing the gossip column. Yes, but don't you girls worry- _she absolutely hates him." _She said the last lines from behind her hand, her whispering even louder than her normal tone.

Leila "ooohed" teasingly and Melissa felt her eyes narrow until Jocelyn's voice provided an interesting distraction.

"Actually, I don't absolutely _love _him either," she confessed. "I only joined this fan club for my best friend, Luke. He's practically his second in command." Both Aribelle and Leila glared playfully at their friend while Melissa started to feel something that she could label as respect.

"Yeah, well, some people at this school need to wake up and see one day that the sun doesn't shine out of Valentine Morgenstern's a-" before she could go further, Aribelle side-stepped her way into the conversation just to change the subject.

"Hey, what were you guys saying about the vamps earlier?" she asked with her voice at least an octave higher.

"Oh, it's about a proposed mission," Leila was too happy to explain. "But I don't really think they've done anything wrong! Sure, Valentine says that they broke the Accords by harming that child that was mentioned at the last assembly, but it's also possible that was an accident and the child just couldn't relate the story properly. There were no fang marks or anything!" The long-time Circle members chuckled at Leila's naive way of voicing her concerns.

"Maybe," Aribelle agreed, "But we can't actually bring it up at a meeting or anything until we're sure. Time to hit the books, girls!" Her passionate outburst was met by a collective groan.

Something had sparked in Melissa's mind. A core belief that her parents had installed in her before she had even learned to utter a word. And Melissa was not the type to keep her views to herself, no matter the time, setting or audience.

"Sure, it _might _not have been Downworlders, but for the Angel's sake it's only a might. What happens when they actually present a real threat to us, and we're too soft to do a goddamn thing!" She met Leila's challenging gaze with a fire burning in her own. "Let us try and hunt them, I say. They deserve it, the demon spawn."

While the blonde girl sitting adjacent to her was composing a furious reply, Jocelyn cut in. "You know, you say you hate Valentine but you sound an awful lot like him right now."

Aribelle leaped in front of the raven-haired girl as she took as step towards her adversary. "Melissa, please-"

All four of them froze as their superior hearing detected a rustle in the bushes that came from the direction of the fence. Exchanging looks of curiosity, Melissa and Aribelle were up and facing the same direction the moment after.

"C'mon, guys!" she whispered and took off across the courtyard, as silent as the night around her. Only a few groups of students with later curfews lingered, and none of them seemed have heard a thing.

The three others followed and soon caught up to the shorter girl. Melissa, only too happy to have a reason to use it, drew her seraph blade from her bag and breathed "Pascialle," for the sole purpose of light. Jocelyn nodded her thanks.

The group of Academy students crept through the darkness to the edge of the grounds, the only sound heard on the journey was the sharp curse Melissa emitted when a thorn caught her sweater, and Leila's following shush. Leila and Jocelyn, still in their school uniforms, were required to be extra wary of the needle points that would be deadly to the soft fabric.

Arriving at the supposed source of the noise, they searched for fifteen minutes in the darkness to find nothing. Glancing out at the field beyond the iron bars, Melissa felt herself yawn. The next moment Aribelle was leaning beside her.

"Tired?" she stated the obvious.

"I told you that two hours ago." Melissa sighed in resentment.

"We're going to go now, but hey- could you go a little easier on people's beliefs?" The taller girl was about to offer a scathing reply when the expression on Aribelle's face froze her mouth. Melissa's questioning turned inwards. Could she be about to throw away her first friend? Hating the cheesy sentiment but recognizing the truth, she closed her mouth silently. There was a ten-year (age-wise, not physical) age gap, but she hadn't felt a connection like this in- if she was honest, in her life. It wasn't something Melissa was prepared to release so easily.

A curt nod answered Aribelle's request instead, and Aribelle's astonished look was met with a small smirk as Melissa jumped and scaled the fence the mundane way before grabbing her duffel bag and disappearing into the darkness beyond. The three boarding students of the Academy made their way to their temporary home and failed to notice the crimson eyes that poked through the deep night like two hot coals and stuck to their backs like glue as they returned to the safety of the courtyard.

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**Next chapter will be called "School is Terribly Cliche." Please review! Every one makes me write faster. :)**


	8. School is Terribly Cliche

Urgh. Started school now, so updates will be a tad bit slower. But it's what I do with my free time- I definitely won't be stopping! But I've decided that my goal is a 95% grade average and yeah, I'll have to work. I think you can expect this story to have about 15 chapters so it's almost halfway done! Oh no. A plot's gradually coming in- look for it! :)

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**School is Terribly Cliché**

While she had been more or less prepared for the meeting in the Academy's main hall, Melissa had never thought that she'd get accosted while walking through the dormitory courtyard.

"Hey, Ryder!" Aribelle's familiar voice traveled to her from under the shade of a small willow tree. As the new student swung her head to look, she realized with a grimace that it was not merely her friend, but what she knew as the whole entirety of the Circle having breakfast outside on the lush green lawn. Deciding that the turn of her head had given her away to noticing them, Melissa reluctantly made her way over. The artist in her couldn't help but admire the way the willow's dappled emerald branches cast glimmering shadows over the heads of two blondes in the dazzling spring sunshine.

"You wanted me because?" she asked, meaning to leave afterwards. But in the next moment she found herself sitting on the grass beside Aribelle, and wondered quizzically how she had gotten there.

"It's a little livelier with you here," Jocelyn stated with a friendly tone. "If Saturday night was anything to go by. And there are still some people you haven't met, yet."

Luke, alerted to Melissa's presence by his friend's words, pouted. "Was there a party I missed, or something?" His inquiry was met by a murmured "I wish" from Leila.

Melissa couldn't help herself. "Yeah, Luke, I totally threw a party for everyone last Saturday night, even though I don't live in the dorms. We all got super smashed- damn, I wish I had some way to preserve that memory of Valentine dancing on a table. Or not."

Luke's stunned glance panned from the brunette before him to the boy sitting on his left. He tried not to laugh, but it wasn't long until it was clear that his efforts were in vain. Valentine, seated between Luke and an adoring eighth year, tried and failed to silence Luke with a glare while simultaneously buttering a piece of toast. By now most of the present Circle had joined in the laughter, if somewhat cautiously. Melissa was looking around in surprise, not used to being the center of attention, or really being paid attention to at all.

As the chuckles died down, Valentine's face relaxed as a bemused expression worked its way to the surface. "It's not often that I'm the punch line of a joke," he murmured. "Quite a strange experience."

Aribelle was the only one whose laughter hadn't been cured. "And that's what makes it funny!" she exclaimed, grinning at him with teeth that were a little crooked. It was an endearing flaw, though, something that said you didn't have to be perfect to be pretty.

Melissa feigned a pout. "So it wasn't my joke, then?"

Jocelyn smiled good-naturedly while the others shook their heads in mock disagreement. It almost scared the young woman to think that she was becoming so comfortable with this elite group of teenagers. As the warning bell tolled like a herald of doom and the Circle members rose to their feet to collect their book bags, Jocelyn scooted over closer to Melissa, the grass sliding softly underneath her hands. "You know why we're all here this morning?" she questioned. Up close, the two females looked startlingly similar, with pale skin, pointed features and piercing emerald eyes.

"Bird watching? Charades? Gambling over toast?" Jocelyn met her comments with a laugh.

"I joined the Circle today, Melissa. Officially." So that the explanation for the happy glow that radiated off her cheeks and body. Melissa folded her bad strap absentmindedly, suddenly concerned. _Was Jocelyn put up to inducting me?_

"Why? I thought you were only here for Luke."

"That's part of the reason _why _I joined. And I realized something- with the group of us together, you'll a_lways _have someone to turn to. Someone to cover your back. It's not some fascist cult-" her voice, though soft, burned with sudden conviction. "It's a group of _friends." _

"What if I don't want a group of friends?" Melissa replied, but her heart wasn't into the statement. From the half-smile on her face, it was obvious that Jocelyn could tell.

"Hey, just think about it, okay? That's all I can ask." She looked around, seeing only herself, Melissa, and Aribelle aiming a playful kick at another male Circle member while Valentine watched approvingly. "Gosh, I better get going. Advanced weaponry is _not _something you want to be late for!" In the next second she had disappeared, using her Nephilim speed to its full extent to get her safely in the Academy's walls in under a minute.

In the next second Valentine was in front of her, bent down, his impeccably cut uniform blazer straining slightly over his broad shoulders. "Coming, Melissa?"

"Yeah, wait a sec," she replied, jumping to her feet with her bag dangling from her left hand. "Do I have an official escort now?"

His lips curved upwards. "It was you who came up with the idea."

Melissa swore under her breath but still fell in step beside him as they set their feet for the main entrance. She smoothed the pleats in her skirt with her free hand and tried not to notice how close her escort's hand was to her own. A glance backwards told her that Aribelle was following with her fighting opponent in tow.

"Who's he?" she inquired in a low voice.

"A new member- he joined with Jocelyn today. Oliver Heimsworth, an eighth year who was recently moved up in quite a few courses." Valentine took a glance back as well, a look of approval settling on his narrow face. "He's quite the archer. Better than me by far."

"Now that's something I haven't heard before. By the Angel, it sounds like the whole school is in this thing." Melissa let out an exasperated puff of air.

He graced her comment with a laugh before continuing. "That would be favourable, but no. There are many who see what we are doing as idiotic, or even wrong. A fair number of them being teachers."

She aimed a playful punch at him, questioned herself on the "playful," and made it harder. "Oooh, rebel!"

"I'd say an eye for an eye, but you'd find yourself in the infirmary with a black eye." Melissa's narrowed eyes were met with a customary smirk. "Seriously, Melissa. You'd benefit greatly by joining the Circle. You have only just started your training here and are doing incredibly well, but if you ever wanted it, I'd be more than happy to tutor you."

Her instant reply of "I think I'd rather have my left arm chopped off," died in her throat, another thought taking its place. Melissa's mind jumped back to the night before last, and heard Aribelle explain how she had executed that perfect jump- _I had a good teacher. _Suddenly, she understood.

"I don't know what you're trying to do here, and I don't know if I want to. Tutoring everyone who struggles while acting like you're all that- I'm starting to wonder if it's really just kindness, or something else entirely."

Valentine stopped beside the classroom door, and as she looked into his dark eyes, she could have sworn that she saw a glimpse of anger there. "Is kindness now a crime, Miss Ryder?"

Her foot stepped forward of its own accord. "Sure, if it's in the wrong-"

"Then you will find this downright despicable," he murmured, voice sliding over her like liquid satin. All airs of anger were gone, like a warm summer breeze after a thunderstorm, as he reached into the pocket of his dark pants and drew out a bundled wad of cash. Melissa's skeptical eyes found his.

"For your cooking spoon," was the only offered explanation before Valentine Morgenstern thrust the money into her questioning hand and glided through the gilded classroom door.

"God, and I thought he had forgotten!" She had even forgotten herself. Melissa stepped over the threshold as well, only to be stopped by two seventh years waiting outside the door.

"Miss!" The braver of the two, an African girl with waves falling to her waist, dashed in front of her. "Is it true that you're really dating _the Valentine Morgenstern? _And that you're new here? My whole year is talking about it, but I wanted to know for sure!"

Melissa found herself gaping. "No, um, yes to the second, but _no! _Now if you pipsqueaks would excuse me- don't you have some boys to be gawking at, or something?"

The other one spoke up now, bouncing so high that she resembled a Mexican jumping bean in a skirt. "But he just gave you money! We _saw _him!"

Her lips turned upwards in a smirk as she side-stepped the girls and finally made it into the classroom. "He'd give you money too, if you asked!" Melissa called, hoping that the idea would stick.

The Academy day had gone by as normally as ever, with Melissa being conned into sitting with the Circle at lunchtime and noticing that the two seventh years didn't even have the courage to say a peep to Valentine throughout the break. Slightly disappointed in them and wondering why she herself was less intimidating, she had made her way to the Living Sciences classroom and sat down between Aribelle and a shockingly empty seat.

Aribelle glanced her way as she sat down and Melissa answered her murmured greeting with a "Huh?"

The blonde girl stared. She was used to Melissa-style hellos, but this one was new.

"Huh what?"

Shifting her gaze momentarily to the left, Melissa then looked at her friend with slight incredulousness. "_Valentine. _With the way he goes on, you'd think he'd never miss a class! And to think that the Gods let me off this lucky?" She was remembering his usual ways of monopolizing whatever the current project was.

Aribelle's lips turned downwards in a thoughtful frown. "I was thinking it was pretty weird too. To tell you the truth, he's only missed enough classes to count on two fingers during his past nine years here." She tapped her fingers rhythmically on the desk's surface for a moment before reaching into her plaid shoulder bag and extracting a textbook.

Melissa copied her actions before speaking. "That's not normal. Isn't school the bane of every sane kid's existence?"

"Of course!" A small laugh escaped from her lips before Aribelle's face turned serious. "But this isn't a normal kid we're talking about."

The brunette noted how her friend's demeanour had switched so suddenly as her mind leaped to many possibilities behind her words. But as suddenly as her thoughts were ignited the flame was doused, for Valentine had walked through the door fifteen minutes into the lesson.

He tried to slip into the room quietly enough, but it was extremely hard when blood was covering his body from head to midriff. Crimson patches stood out in stark contrast with his white-blonde hair and fair skin, dripping down his torso to stain his uniform blazer and even making itself known on the front of his crisp white shirt. It looked like he had been caught in some absurd macabre rainstorm without an umbrella.

"Mr Morgenstern!" Mrs Lovelace exclaimed in horror, taking a few reflexive steps backwards before running forward to Valentine. "By the Angel, what happened to you?"

"Head wound," he explained with a smirk while lifting one bloody palm apologetically. "Just one of the perks of being a Shadowhunter. They bleed quite a lot."

Melissa, who had been shocked into silence at his appearance, couldn't help but chuckle. While Aribelle looked at her in horror, obviously wondering what could be funny about the situation, she smiled reassuringly. _If he can poke fun at his own injuries, he's obviously not all that hurt._ She turned her attention to the front once more.

"_Seriously, _you cannot sit in on a lesson while you're still bleeding, no matter how "okay" you say you are! If you're not prepared to tell me what happened, you had better answer to the headmaster himself!" the teacher insisted, her eyes impossibly wide from the astonishing amount of blood on his shoulders. "Please, a student to accompany Mr Morgenstern to the office and infirmary."

She knew that Valentine would never take an injury that lightly, as it would be a terrible blow to his pride, and was suddenly puzzled as to why he would make light of it. In the next few seconds, it became crystal clear to Melissa that he didn't want any adult knowing where he had been, and what he had just been doing. It was that fact that made her arm shoot up, faster than both Aribelle's and Luke's.

"I will, Mrs Lovelace."

The older woman looked almost as startled as when Valentine had walked into the room covered in blood. "Was that Miss Ryder?"

Melissa stood and threw the teacher an irritable glance. "No, it was my twin sister."

She received a look that had become as familiar to her as her own home. "Then go, but next time you talk to me like that I will schedule _both _of you appointments with the headmaster."

"Unexpected," Valentine mused as he strode down the wall with Melissa. The only sound heard save for voices was the soft padding of their polished shoes against the soft, carpeted floor of the hallway. Melissa had felt particularly rebellious today and had donned her usual distressed jeans in the place of her pleated cotton skirt. That had earned her both a glare from Mrs Logan and two bad conduct marks, but that wasn't the worst of her plans by far. She had decided to wait a few months before breaking out the _real _outfit scandals.

"For me too," Melissa agreed, shifting her eyes to gaze at the dappled sunlight patterning the floor beneath the many high windows they passed. "Do you _really _plan on going to the headmaster?"

"Of course, but he will receive the version of events that I decide on."

She laughed. "God, I would be plotting which place is best to jump the fence at this point, if I was you."

"Key words," Valentine replied, "are "if I was you." And I certainly hope that day never comes."

Smirking, Melissa pressed her case. "So, I'm doing my act of charity for the day. Are you going to tell me the truth, or not?"

Her partner slowed his pace, as they were nearing the staircase that would take them down to the office, infirmary and headmaster's quarters. "In truth, there's not much to tell. I got a lead on a particularly nasty demon's whereabouts, and decided that there was enough of break left to try my hand at killing it myself. Obviously, there wasn't, and it gave me a knock to the head." He raised a hand to touch his head and then lowered it, blood still wet on his fingers. Valentine's lip curled distastefully at his own body's weakness.

"And you didn't _tell _anyone? Or bring along another to act as your _parabatai?" _Melissa shook her head in astonishment. "And I thought that I was foolish..."

"It was fast, and I believed the demon to be weaker," he said reluctantly, while taking on a barely detectable dry tone. "I will be sure to take another with me next time, if it so pleases you."

"Just a thought," the brunette stated. "Why did you go after _this _particular demon in the first place?"

"And that is something that I would share with you if you were in the Circle, Miss Ryder," Valentine replied teasingly as he slipped through the heavy oak door in front of them and into the room beyond, not letting Melissa have even the slightest glimpse of the Academy's inner space. Head wound or not, he was still as light on his feet as ever, a quality not usually seen in men his height. She knew he would get away with no punishment whatsoever. Valentine Morgenstern's astounding charisma was just one, if not the most prominent, trait he possessed that drew both adults and students to him like bees to honey.

She lingered outside the door, postponing her return to class as long as possibly by trying to see through the glass into the room beyond. Melissa was curious about the headmaster, having heard both positive and negative things about him. A man who had come from the outskirts of Idris, he was both intelligent and fierce, and while fair, made every student pay a price for any wrongdoings. Of course, him and Valentine were probably best friends or something along those lines. As she ran an absentminded finger along the window's translucent pattern, another thought entered her mind. _The outskirts of Idris... _Melissa turned and strode down the hall, missing the remainder of her fourth class for something that she had been meaning to check since her arrival at school today.

The Grand Library of Alicante was of enormous size, rivalling that of those found in any Institute across the world and dwarfing any located in Idris. The only Nephilim stronghold of knowledge greater than the one found at the Academy was in the famed City of Bones, deep underground and in the possession of the revered Silent Brothers. Not many Shadowhunters were granted access to that inner sanctum of knowledge, so they settled for the Academy's library instead.

Melissa was not one often found with books, but the artist in her couldn't help but admire the Library's otherworldly beauty. The size of both the Eating Hall and practise yards combined, the great building was separate from the Academy itself and only located on its grounds for convenience. Stones dating back far before any other building in Alicante made up its walls and dark wooden shelves were lined against them like old soldiers, highly polished but still cracked and worn from countless students searching for elusive books. It wasn't hard for a book to elude a student in here, for there were more books than any one person could hope to read in their lifetime arranged neatly by genre and author surname on shelves that reached for the ceiling. It was rumoured that the head librarian, a small old woman that looked more vulture than human, knew the location of every title found in the library. As she gave Melissa a curt nod upon entry, the immortal woman thought that was utter nonsense.

Dropping her bag at a vacant table and cringing at the unwanted noise, Melissa set her feet for the records that she knew were at the very back of the library. Her feet stopped of their own volition as a flyer forgotten on a table caught her eye.

_Alicante Formal Dance at Angel Square- Friday, every two weeks._

It went on to list the actual dates as Melissa shook her head and kept walking. _It's this Friday... Aribelle will have a fit, _she thought absentmindedly. _Of course, she won't have the ability to dance much longer if she asks me along. _Reaching the back, she found the school enrolment records and started searching, the "R" file catching her attention immediately. Sheets upon sheets of stark white parchment covered in a slanting, cursive script passed through her fingers as she flipped hurriedly through the school enrolment records, finally stopping at the very back of the file- "Ry." Since it was a strange combination of letters for a surname, it took only a few moments for Melissa to come to a shocking conclusion.

The only Ryder who had attended the Alicante Shadowhunter Academy in the past five decades was the pale brunette girl sitting in the Grand Library's student records.

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**Next chapter is called "Two Swords are Better Than One." Reviews make my day!**


	9. Two Swords are Better Than One

A few little changes and updates will get a lot more frequent now... expect more soon (:

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**Two Swords are Better than One**

It was extremely hard dragging herself up the Academy's stone steps, for the rays of the season's first true spring day were warming Melissa to her core and putting her in an unusually good mood. It was scaring her slightly, though- late at night, whenever she desperately tried to compile a list of the things she hated about the Academy, she came up with fewer and fewer each time. As she crossed the threshold into Mrs Logan's classroom and looked for Aribelle and Jocelyn, Melissa wondered if she was, truly, happier now that she was here. It was short-lived, though- she had already come to terms with the fact that she had never really been happy anywhere in her life.

As she sat down rather early for a change, Aribelle glanced her way. "Beautiful weather, and some news to go with it! Guess what we're doing first period?"

She leaned her head on the desk, dark curls spilling everywhere, suddenly overcome by a wave of fatigue. "Learning how to use a blade of grass as a proper weapon against Forsaken? Or just the usual? I don't know." Lifting her head slowly, she scoped the room for familiar faces. Maryse and Robert, steady Academy couple and Circle members, were both sketching runes on the milky surface of Leila's arm. Feeling the familiar bitter rush, Melissa averted her eyes to the other side, where both fiery red and blindingly blonde heads were assisting the instructor with collecting... _seraph blades_ in a small box? Melissa whipped back to face Aribelle. "Are we fighting?" she asked bluntly.

"Mhmm. And outside, as well!" While still excited, the look on Melissa's face brought a flash of concern into her blonde friend's eyes. She lowered her voice and whispered, "Are you sure you're up to a bout? You've only been here a week, you know-"

Anger surged through Melissa, thinly masking damaged pride. "Of _course _I can damn well fight! What do you think I've been doing in this accursed Academy? Do you really think I'm here to make _friends? _One more year after this one, mark you, and I'll be out before you can say Shadowhunter."

Aribelle closed her weapons textbook softly and stared at Melissa, waiting quietly for the brunette's eyes to stop displaying green acid before speaking. "It's a wonder you have any friends at all, with the way you treat people like they're dirt underneath your feet. We're all dirt underneath Valentine's feet as well- but at least he's nice about it." She clutched her textbook to her chest like a girl much younger than her and walked over to the knot of Circle members that was quickly forming on the other side of the classroom.

Still seething at Aribelle's comments, Melissa walked down to the practise yard on the fringe of the group of ninth years. Trying to channel her anger into a useful purpose, she reviewed the few fighting moves she had mastered in her week and a half in attendance. She couldn't even judge how useful they would be but she was grasping at straws, the strongest need in her the one to prove Aribelle wrong.

Handing out the seraph blades went fast enough. Aribelle immediately attached herself to Jocelyn and was soon after partnered with her, dragging the taller girl to a far corner of the chilly, sunlit courtyard. Melissa hugged her navy sweatshirt to herself and pulled her eyes from the innocent-looking box of blades when a hand touched her arm.

"It's name is Qadhos," Valentine said, holding a translucent silver blade out to her hilt-first. She took it, liking the sturdy feeling of the heavy object in her palm.

Melissa glanced up, eyebrows arched. "You could have at least given me a pronounceable one."

"It's easy enough," he replied, and for a moment seemed as though he was about to say something else. A minute passed before his mouth curved upwards in a genuine smile and he murmured "Good luck," and passed to the next student.

Melissa considered the option of Valentine, who would most likely be willing, as a partner, but decided quickly that she didn't want today to be her last day. When she noticed that most other students had already partnered up, she took a few hurried steps backwards and hoped that the sea of eager ninth years would hide the one reluctant Academy member.

"Miss Ryder! It seems that you do not have a partner," Mrs Logan called, a bit too loudly for Melissa's liking. Trying to ignore the cruel, albeit half-hearted smirk on Aribelle's face, the dark-haired girl moved to stand beside the shorter, slightly mousey boy that the instructor had just indicated.

"Ooh Adrian, you got the new girl!" Melissa gave her partner's friend a withering look as he pulled Adrian aside to whisper something in his ear. Still watching, something inside her jumped in alarm as the look in Adrian's brown eyes hardened. He stepped away and turned to fully face her as Mrs Logan's Mark-powered voice rang out across the courtyard.

"Blades ready!"

With a breathed _"Qadhos," _Melissa had her angel blade alight and aligned with Adrian's face. Each pair faced each other from a rough distance of ten feet, all wearing similar expressions of determination.

"Keep in mind," Mrs Logan spoke, "That these blades are merely for practise, and are not designed to cut, tear, or slice your opponent in any way. That does not mean, though, that they cannot harm you! So be careful- I am not expecting any foolish injuries in a class who is set to graduate next year."

Melissa mentally snorted.

"Bow," she ordered and a class of forty teenagers obeyed her command.

"Begin."

A shot of panic ran through Melissa as she realized she did not know which hand was best suited to hold the blade. Seeing movement at the edge of her vision, she passed the weapon to her right hand and ducked as Adrian's blow skimmed the hairs on her head.

With merely her dancer's reflexes to aid her, the new student was up in a second, blade held in a crude parody of the other Nephilim around her. Adrian only needed a second's recovery to lunge once more. His seraph blade rushed forwards once more and Melissa's only just rose in time to parry. Bright silver flashed as her wrist protested in pain on impact- and she suddenly realized that her opponent was not after a friendly, skill-strengthening bout. _He wants to hurt me. _The surge of adrenaline that ignited her veins like fire was brought on by fear, but fuelled by anger.

The sudden onslaught of emotion blinded her for a second, and that was all it took for Adrian's dulled blade to collide with her unprotected left side. A shock of agony and her hands barely beat her body on a race to the ground below. Feeling the concrete rip into soft skin, Melissa's left elbow shot upwards to connect with her opponent's own forearm on pure instinct, jarring herself once more but managing to ward off another crushing blow. When she sensed his presence was no longer beside her she sprang to her feet, quickly glancing at her stinging palms. Each one was coated in a thin glove of gravel and blood.

Adrian was standing a few paces away, an almost_ nonchalant_ air about him that reminded her of Valentine. Melissa narrowed her eyes- and saw through it. While the taller boy's air was something he himself most likely couldn't control, the aura of the boy in front of her was obviously forced. She gripped her seraph blade tighter, ignoring her bloody hand's protests, and took a step forward. "What is your _problem?" _she hissed into the crisp spring air.

He ran and suddenly he was beside her, blade raised once more. "You're one of _them."_

Melissa whipped sideways but his angel blade still managed to clip her shoulder. "Shit!" She spat the word out as if it were poison. Ducking, dodging and parrying only when she had the nerve to do so, Melissa was pushed up against the side of the Academy's courtyard. She sent a quick glance around for any classmate who would be inclined to assist her before ripping her eyes back to Adrian and relishing in the pain the bruise blossoming on her shoulder was giving her. Why was she giving in to weakness so easily? With another muttered curse, the immortal girl braced her heel against the courtyard's side and launched herself at her opponent again.

She had only taken a few steps when a movement from the side caught her eye. Turning only her head she saw Valentine, Nephilim eyes detecting no evidence that he had been in a mock battle just moments before. As suddenly as she noticed him, Melissa saw the others, roughly twenty students playing spectator to her bout. Luke watching intensely, eyes wide; Jocelyn and Aribelle standing just behind Valentine, the latter wearing a guarded expression like a cloak. A few other students were making soft noises to the person beside them- it only took Melissa a moment to figure out that they were _laughing _at her.

There already was crimson clouding her vision like a lens, but she managed to focus on the object Valentine held invitingly in his palm. It was another seraph blade, already lit, twin to the one she held in her bloody palm for all she knew. His eyes found hers and there was an unspoken message in them- _If you take it, you'll be better. _No offer of assistance, no encouraging words and not even a smile this time- just cold, clear conviction. She remembered his comment in the Morgenstern manor parlour and understood.

The blade felt just as at home in her left hand as in her right. Melissa spun, taking Adrian by surprise, and lashed quickly out with both blades at once. He side-stepped the right one, only to be met by the edge of the left. His curse was almost as loud as hers had been and Melissa felt a smile dance across her face. _Whatever your problem is, soon it's not going to be your biggest one._ Valentine's confident face flashed before her eyes as she lunged forward, blade aiming for the air in front of Adrian's throat.

It never got there.

Melissa's green eyes widened in shock as she glimpsed Adrian's form not in front, but to the side of her body. His hand flashed outwards with nine years of hard training and the immortal girl felt the cold metal of the weapon's translucent blade just barely touch the skin of her neck.

"Checkmate," Adrian pronounced with a smirk.

She could only stand there in defeat as the students surrounding them cheered and whooped for the victory of her opponent.

It was the first true blow to her pride in quite a while, and it was also what triggered an event that, given any other circumstances, Melissa Ryder would never have dreamed of. "I _can't _believe I'm doing this," she muttered vehemently under her breath as she paced up and down a small section of the Academy's central walkway that bordered the Advanced Marks Theory classrooms. She flipped her dark bangs back irritably and was about set her feet homeward when the person she had been awaiting stepped out into the sunlight.

"Valentine!" she waved him towards her.

A look of surprise flitted across his face before it became as blank as ever. "Funny, I didn't think you'd desire my company very much at the moment." A few more steps and he was in front of her.

Melissa worked at keeping her face as neutral as his was. "I know you were actually trying to help me, I'm not as stupid as I look," she retorted. "And I couldn't see you at the end, so I don't think you were part of my adoring fan club."

"Your adoring fan club isn't going to go half as far in life as you are," he said, and there was a certain, indescribable tone in his voice that pushed the corners of her mouth upwards without her permission. "In your case, it seems that two swords are better than one. Now, if I may ask, why do you require my presence?"

Knowing that waiting wouldn't make the words any easier to spit out, Melissa threw her pride out the window and met Valentine's black eyes with a steely gaze of her own.

"I need you to tutor me in a few things. I was the laughingstock of the class today- but I'm not going to be that way again without putting up a major fight."

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**Next chapter's name remains undecided. Reviews are always super amazing :D**


	10. Baby Steps

**I'm hoping to post a Merely a Luxury-related Christmas surprise soon, so keep watch and author alert me if you're interested. :D**

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Chapter Nine: Baby Steps

He stared at her, eyes clouded with something that could be disbelief. "Try again," he murmured encouragingly, but changed his tone abruptly when he saw the look on her face. "It won't bite any more than I will."

"Then I don't trust it in the least," Melissa replied, flinching from both Valentine's hand and the tip of his stele. Valentine rose from his kneeling position on the common room floor and sat on the slightly threadbare couch beside her. Melissa eyed him warily, sensing annoyance in his voice and posture. She brought her legs up to her chest and idly rubbed the small, stele-induced burn while letting the fire's warmth wash over her body.

Valentine's voice made her turn to face him.

"I could be studying, you know."

"Then study," she replied, turning away again. "I don't want to be guilt-tripped into doing this."

"It was your idea in the first place," he murmured mildly, airs of annoyance gone. Sparing a glance out the window, Valentine noted that the moon had already disappeared.

"Melissa, look at me."

Only the surprisingly smooth hand that touched her own made her obey. Firelight danced in Valentine's dark eyes as he spoke.

"You are perfectly capable of this. You most likely suffered worse pain from your bout earlier today than you will now, from this." She snorted, but didn't break eye contact.

"I dare you."

There it was again. The voice that had urged her on in her mock fight that morning, the one that had caused the corners of her mouth to unwittingly rise that afternoon. It was like he wasn't _contemplating _that she could do better- he was _certain _of it. If she let him draw her first Marks, she was only living up to his expectations- anything less and she was _disappointing _him.

As soon as Melissa's eyes hardened into green ice, Valentine knew he had achieved his goal.

She flipped her curls out of the way before positioning her back to him and pulling down the shoulder of her sweater. A dark purple bruise, a token of the day's bout, was the only blemish on a blank canvas of ivory skin.

Melissa threw him a coy smirk over her shoulder. "Draw me."

There was a smile of a slightly different nature present on Valentine's face as he moved closer to her. The old couch squeaked in protest as he shifted his six foot frame to better position himself over her exposed back.

This time, Melissa met the fiery bite of the stele with only a sharp intake of breath. But, infuriatingly, Valentine was right- she had experienced pain far worse than this, like the time her wrist was fractured while trying to execute a triple pirouette when she was only nine. Melissa had to let it heal naturally, for her parents would not permit even the weakest of Marks to touch her skin.

As he drew, she could barely feel the warm caress of his breath on her bare shoulder. It sent an unwarranted shiver racing down her spine and Melissa heard Valentine's sharp intake of breath behind her. Assuming it was a result of her movement, the dark-haired girl held herself as still as she was able to. At the same time as the stele's painful touch left her skin, a cold draft of air stroked it- and Melissa suddenly felt exposed. With a strange jolt of fear, she whipped around and yanked her sweater up before reaching her hand back to feel her first Mark.

Because she had unreasonably expected the area to be as smooth as before, Melissa was startled to feel lines of slightly raised flesh beneath her fingers. As her finger lingered on the Mark in shock, she realized that the thin lines were faintly warm.

Poking her skin gently, Melissa also found that the bruise had vanished.

The cosmetic-related doubts fell away as she traced the swirling lines of skin, entranced. _We have the power to solve so many problems, with just the touch of a stele. _Looking to her right, Melissa saw a small smile appear on Valentine's narrow face and felt her own lips bend to mirror his.

"More," she breathed, thrusting an upturned forearm towards him.

An odd look surfaced in Valentine's eyes as he ran a finger down the edge of his stele. Melissa, dizzy from her very first surge of rune-induced power, vaguely noted how his almost delicate fingers contrasted harshly with the rest of his sturdily-built frame. Her sense of reality heightened again, however, when she felt his fingertips turn her palm over and poised his stele over the back of her hand.

"If you're trying to read my palm, you're doing it wrong," she said hesitantly.

Onyx eyes darted up to meet her own. "Customary venomous jibe is lacking the usual wit to back it, Ryder," he replied in as playful a tone as Valentine Morgenstern was capable of. "Have you noticed the one Mark, present on every true Shadowhunter, that doesn't seem to fade?"

Melissa located the Mark in question quickly enough on Valentine's own body. "The eye, right there." She lifted the hand that was not currently being held and lightly touched Valentine's left hand, the one that grasped the stele. "The symbol for clairvoyant sight." While the other runes that criss-crossed his skin had faded long ago, the swirling eye on the back of his hand was as black as the day it had been drawn.

"I'm pleased to hear that you do not sleep through all of your classes."

She smirked. "I only dose off when the company beside me is lacking."

Valentine pointedly decided to ignore the last comment. "Are you sure that you want me to draw this upon you? This is one of the Nephilim's most cherished Marks, given when a young Shadowhunter first starts their training. In fact, there is usually a ceremony attached to it- do you want to miss that?" There was no wavering of his voice, no doubt in his own ability to perform such a celebrated ritual without assistance- he was merely questioning _her _position. It was then that Melissa truly became aware of how utterly and completely _certain _Valentine was in everything that he strived to accomplish. And in light of that realization, she was not sure whether to be angry at him, extremely jealous or both.

"I do not require the entire population knowing how late of start I got off too- and it seems as though this Mark is already overdue." She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before opening them once more. "I'm ready."

"Do you want me to be the one to do it?"

Did she? Thoughts ghosting over faces of the few people- both teens and adults- that she was familiar with at the Academy and in the world outside of it; a shock of electricity ran through Melissa's mind. While she could think of many others who were no doubt more skilled than Valentine (no matter how great of Shadowhunter the Circle members claimed he was), a strange feeling filled her when she realized that the only person she trusted to Mark her like this was Valentine himself.

"If it's not you, then it'll be some other stranger," she said matter-of-factly. "I'd rather it was someone... someone I knew." Melissa was surprised when the last sentence came out as a whisper.

As his eyes bored into her own, it seemed like Valentine was about to say something, but instead directed his gaze downwards once more. Melissa was still as the now-familiar sting of the stele's tip was present on soft skin of her hand.

He traced the outline of the Mark with slow, painful precision. An oval with a swooping end appeared first, lines thick and stylized. A swirling pupil came next, circling the center of the eye like a hurricane. By the time it was nearing completion, Melissa was gritting her teeth in pain, trying to distract herself with the beautiful, curling lines that were almost soothing to her eyes. It was the first time Melissa had ever thought of Valentine as an artist.

When it was done, an eye-like Mark just as perfect as the one decorating his own left hand stared back at her from her right one.

Gaze leaping up in search of Valentine's, Melissa found that he was already on his feet and across the room, seemingly in search of something. She stretched her feet out on the hearth with a sigh while her left hand absentmindedly drifted over the new Mark.

"Why did you choose my right hand?"

Valentine stopped shuffling through papers long enough to glance at her. "Your right hand?"

"Yeah." She waved it at him as if she needed to make herself clearer. "This rune is supposed to be drawn on your dominant hand, but I'm ambidextrous... so why?"

He grabbed a paper from the common room table and returned to the couch, setting it down on the coffee table and sliding it over to her. Melissa was too curious for an answer to notice.

"The race of Nephilim was made to be God's wardens of the mundane world because of the Angel's own blood that runs through us. Therefore we are God's creatures, through and through. In my life, the only thing I have deplored about myself is the only way I am connected to Satan, and Hell... through my left hand." He paused then, looking down at his own hand as though it was a slightly distasteful piece of food. Melissa pictured a much younger Valentine throwing a tantrum about how much he hated his left hand and almost laughed.

"Sorry, I'd like to sympathize with you on that, but I can't say I can. Usually my uneven left eyebrow and bountiful freckles get me so riled up in the morning, I couldn't even think about my preferred hand if I tried."

Valentine's eyes were slightly confused. "You don't have freckles."

This time, Melissa couldn't hold back her mirth. Looking for a distraction, she cast her eyes upon the sheet of paper he had brought over and felt them widen.

"I suppose you're not planning on attending?"

The brunette's eyes narrowed. "Let me think for a min- no. Did Aribelle put you up to this?"

"I don't think Aribelle would put me up to anything involving you at the moment, Melissa," Valentine said with a condescending air. Melissa scowled at him.

"But," he continued, "I am getting tired of the large population of female Academy students worrying about my relationship status more than their grades. I thought that if you- ah, _accompanied _me to the formal dance in the Hall of Accords, it might prove to disconcert their efforts."

She felt her jaw gape and her eyebrows rise of their own accord. "You want me to be your girlfriend?"

"I never said that," he replied infuriatingly and leaned back, watching her with glint in his eyes that unsettled her. "From what I understand, a date and a date for a dance are two separate things. And don't you think that you owe it to me, Miss Ryder? I have given you your first and most important Marks- I would say you are thoroughly in my debt."

Melissa tried in vain to read his eyes, gave up, and sat back with a carefully constructed look of blankness on her face. She wondered why she felt like she was being played as easily as an instrument.

He chuckled. "Who knows, you may even be able to teach me a few things on the dance floor."

She knew that there was no simple motive behind this offer but Melissa felt inexplicably drawn to the evident dare in his dark eyes. Loathing both herself and the boy in front of her, she rose to her feet in one fluid movement.

"Fine, I'll go," Melissa said as she walked past him and out the common room door.

Aribelle blew a stray wisp of blonde hair from her face and looked up from her textbook as a knock was heard from the door. Leaping expertly over the obstacle course of books, clothing and all manners of other objects that her roommate had left for her, she opened the door to find Melissa lounging on the other side.

Aribelle's logical mind clicked away. "How did you find my dorm room?"

Melissa waved a rolled-up copy of the Academy residence map, which the blonde student snatched from her hands merely for something to do. Melissa waited for Aribelle to emerge from behind the map before speaking. "I'm not as stupid as I look, you know."

Aribelle's hazelnut eyes ghosted over Melissa's frame and the huge, dark sweater that was draped over it as her mind jumped back to the day's events. "Actually, you don't look that stupid. You look like a bat in that sweater, and bats have very high intelligent levels. However, I'm not sure if the "high" part can apply to bat-resembling humans."

Something akin to pain or regret flashed in Melissa's eyes as her face tightened. "Touché. But what if I told you that you looked like an off-duty cheerleader?" She was looking pointedly at the other girl's Academy insignia-embroidered hoodie.

"Then I would slap you."

"Ah. Then you look lovely." Melissa stepped forward. "But I haven't stopped by just to say how well that shade of navy compliments your complexion. I'm afraid I am in quite a pickle, dear Aribelle, and need assistance pronto. And I'm sure this will be right up your alley."

Her plea was met with raised eyebrows but no comment.

She sighed impatiently and lowered her voice. "Valentine has conned me into attending the dance in the Accords Hall the day after tomorrow, and if you don't think showing up in this sweater is the best idea, I think I'll need some-"

But she stopped speaking then, for the smile that was slowly spreading across Aribelle's face was the only answer she needed.

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**Next chapter to be called "Dance with Death, Part I." Anonymous reviews are enabled now, so please take that extra few seconds of your day to tell me what you think. **


	11. Dance with Death, Part I

I'd just like to give a well-earned shoutout to my new beta reader, Elless! If you want a demonstration of how much she helps (and is going to help!) with each chapter, just take a look at my reviews! So go over to her page and give her some love. Chapters are coming out pretty fast now, and I'm really starting to feel this story. Read on!

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Melissa looked around the rather messy dorm room to distract herself from the burning pain of runes being drawn onto the skin of her scalp. Textbooks and papers were strewn all over the other desk across the room from where she sat while clothes of all varieties and colours littered the floor, though socks seemed to be a reoccurring theme. Strangely, none of it seemed to belong to Aribelle.

"You didn't seem like the extreme slob type to me," she muttered, teeth set in a grimace while her dark, messy curls were tugged with Nephilim strength.  
"I'm not!" Aribelle exclaimed from somewhere above her. "Everyone always thinks that. No, that's Joanna, my roommate. The least the Academy could've done was give me someone impeccably clean like Maryse, but no, I'm stuck with the Academy's messiest girl," she sighed as the tugging ceased and Melissa saw a hand dart out from behind her for the stele on the desk.  
This time, the stele's bite on the back of her head was especially sharp. "By the Angel, woman!" the older girl yelped and shot out of the chair, scattering eye shadow palettes and tubes of lipstick everywhere. "What the hell are all these Marks for, anyway?"

Aribelle let out another irritated sigh and bent to pick up a stray rouge palette. "Usually used for, but not limited to, volume, curl, shimmer, bounce –"

"_Bounce?" _Melissa exclaimed in disbelief, one hand flying to the back of her head. "There's a _rune _for that?"  
"Of course," Aribelle replied like it was an everyday fact. For her and her golden, pin-straight hair, it probably was. "There's a rune for everything, you just have to know where to look."

Feeling her eyes roll upwards almost of their own accord, Melissa turned to face the vanity mirror. While still exceedingly strange a face that had become almost familiar during the three years she had lived in Alicante as a dancer stared back at her. Both her friend and her stage makeup artist seemed to favour dark, smokey rings around her green eyes and shining, full ringlets over her usually natural look and messy, tangled curls. She was like a photo in negative, pale skin contrasting violently with pitch-black locks of hair. The only colour was her eyes and lips, which were painted a deep red.

"You clean up rather nicely," Aribelle observed from her place by Melissa's side. While she was all black and white, her shorter friend radiated gold, with already tanned skin bronzed to perfection and glowing pale tresses wrapped around her head in a small knot. "Come on, we've got to get our dresses on before – oh!" A knock at the dormitory door came just a moment later.  
"I'll get it," Melissa said and cracked the door open, ready to slam it closed if it happened to be her date for the night. Instead, a pair of familiar, luminous hazelnut eyes gazed up at her. "Is my sister there?" came out a high squeak.

She stepped aside, let the extremely small girl into the room and immediately saw the resemblance between their visitor and Aribelle, who was applying lipstick in the vanity mirror. They were both petite for their age and shared the same warm, brown eyes. But while they were both small and sported olive-toned skin, this girl, with her dark brown waves of hair flowing down her back, could only be described as exotic.

"Eliza!" Aribelle exclaimed in surprise. "I didn't think you were going to stop in until tomorrow...I do have the dance to go to, you know. What do you want?"

Pouting, Eliza dashed to her sister's side. "Why do _you _get to go to the dance?" she muttered under her breath. She then rose to the tips of her toes and murmured something in the older girl's ear that Aribelle needed to lean down to hear. As the siblings exchanged private information, Melissa deemed it was a good opportunity to don the new dress she had bought yesterday.

Slipping into the dorm room's tiny bathroom, she snatched the curtain of red fabric that hung on the single-barred brass rack. Pulling it on one-handed, the other hand braced against the counter as she hopped into the gown, Melissa swung her curls over her bare, Marked shoulder and stumbled out of the small room, hands pressed across her breasts to hold the gown up.

Aribelle stopped talking with her sister at once. "Oh Melissa, you do know what end of a dress goes on first!" She rushed over as Eliza eyed Melissa with huge eyes before scurrying out of the dorm room.

"More than you know," she muttered cryptically, but if Aribelle heard, she didn't comment. Her friend swivelled her around to zip the back of the floor-length crimson affair up before throwing a grin at Melissa and disappearing into the bathroom to change.

It had only taken one relatively painless trip to her favourite city boutique for Melissa to find a dress that she didn't abhor. Her usual tailor had been almost surprised as Melissa was when she found out her customer was attending the Accords Hall dance. She had forced more dresses on her than Melissa cared to remember, and she had finally come to an agreement with the dancer that she should wear the strapless, silk mermaid- style gown that fell to the floor and hugged her moderate curves in an overall flattering way. It had been the second dress Melissa had worn, and she cursed herself afterwards for agreeing to try on the dozens that followed.

Aribelle emerged again quickly, clad in a tight-fitting black dress that contrasted her golden glow amazingly. She knelt to slip on a pair of strappy heels that would make her at least a few inches taller and paused when she saw her friend's expression. "What are you looking at? I'd recommend a mirror."

"No..." Melissa said slowly, "I'm just wondering why guys like Valentine would even give me the time of day when they're surrounded by you."

She rose, flipped her curtain of hair over her shoulders and actually laughed, albeit bitterly. "Hey, remind me to tell you a story sometime..." Melissa was about to ask what a story had to do with anything when a strong knock at the door signalled the arrival of their dates.

"Oliver!" Aribelle shouted in sudden excitement, referring to the boy who Melissa had observed her talking to a few days before. He had finally worked up the nerve to ask her; something, according to his loose-lipped friends, he had wanted to do for over a year now. Since that had happened, his date had been positively ecstatic.  
"Valentine," Melissa said, more a statement than an expression of any emotion. She moved to answer the door, not catching the small look of annoyance that had passed like a shadow over her friend's face.  
If Valentine Morgenstern always looked clean and effortlessly put together, tonight he could only be described as gorgeous. While Aribelle's glow had to do with her golden tones and light-hearted personality, his light came purely from within. His shining blonde hair with not a strand out of place and black tuxedo were only vessels for the pure light that seemed to radiate off of every part of his body, making the handsome boy beside him pale considerably in comparison. Then she blinked and he was a regular, although extremely good-looking, teenage boy. His eyes slid down her body once, never failing to make her feel uncomfortably exposed, and he smiled chastely while handing her a rose the same colour as her dress. She took it in reflex, uttering a word not proper for a lady in a dress when a stray thorn impaled her finger.  
"Classy, Ryder," he said with a smirk as he moved aside to let Oliver greet Aribelle. "Want my stele to kiss it better?"  
"Only if it wants to find itself in a painfully undesirable place afterwards," she threw back, whacking him on the arm with the dangerous flower. She glanced back at Aribelle, who was planting a kiss on the blushing cheek of her date, and jumped when Valentine slipped his hand around her own. It felt strangely _right. _  
"Cut the puppy-dog kisses – don't we have a dance to be off to?"

The Halls of Accords, positioned in the exact center of the Glass City, was in itself nothing new to Melissa, but the way it was decorated tonight was breathtaking. Thousands of sparkling witchlight beads threw constantly changing patterns of light upon the hair and shoulders of over a hundred dancers, young and old alike. Every square inch of the hall's towering walls was finely gilded and shining, highly polished for the biweekly occasion — Melissa imagined the floor to look similar, if she could see it. Valentine led her around the marble fountain moulded into the perfect likeliness of the Nephilim's most beloved scene, the angel Raziel rising out of the sacred lake bearing two of the Mortal Instruments, the cup and the sword. For some reason, her hand was still grasped in his own. They crossed the grand dance hall with caution, dodging dancing couples with Oliver and Aribelle right behind them, and climbed a set of shallow stone steps to reach the eating area, dotted with round, white-clothed tables that seated up to eight people. A massive buffet table ran down the middle, sporting everything from dainty breaded shrimp appetizers to cakes layered upon cakes, all dipping with everything from caramel to chocolate to raspberry sauces.

Oliver stopped in his tracks before subtly tugging his date in the direction of the food, a slight expression of embarrassment brought on by Aribelle's obvious admiration of the dance floor and its occupants. Melissa caught it, and used her and Valentine's joined hands to her advantage. A minute later, the pair was back where they had started, near the angel fountain.

"Why so enthusiastic all of a sudden?" he questioned, placing a hand on her waist and bringing the hand still holding hers up to shoulder level.

A green light sparked in Melissa's eyes, and not a nice one either. "Oliver's so awkward... I want to see him dance."

The music took up again, a fast-paced waltz that many student dancers balked and evacuated the dance floor at. Valentine, however, stayed put. "You have quite the mean streak, don't you? Are you sure you can handle this tempo?" He felt the slight pressure of her hand on his shoulder.

"I really hate it when people doubt me, Morgenstern," she replied, though the curve of her lips said otherwise. "Just wait and see."

And they danced.

Though Valentine's stamina in battle was much better than Melissa's, the two did not know who tired of dancing first. It may have been when she parted her stained lips slightly to allow better breathing, or when a slight sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. Either way, after a nearly too lively foxtrot came to its ending note, he led her over to a table full of familiar faces and brushed his lips against her hand before leaving his regular Circle members, most likely trying to recruit new ones. Valentine was always the perfect gentleman, and after three years of watching lecherous men in clubs, it made her almost uneasy.

"About time you two joined the world again," Jocelyn teased from the seat to her right. A pretty white chiffon dress fell to her knees, making her ivory skin seem even whiter against the shock of crimson curls that cascaded down one shoulder. "He's a great dancer, isn't he?"

Wondering how she knew that but quite keen on avoiding the question, Melissa scooped her dress up and stood again. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

Jocelyn darted a glance over to Aribelle, still trying to coerce her date into dancing, and rose as well. "Sure, I'm starving and that crème brûlée looks good enough to die for."

They had soon made their way to the main buffet table and were loading their paper plates up with more than the dainty things could handle. Melissa often mused that life was too short to eat dessert last, and it was clear that Jocelyn shared that same sentiment.

Suddenly, the room seemed to constrict around her. The noise that had seemed festive before was now suffocating, inducing a claustrophobia that Melissa never knew she had. The spotted glow of witchlight above seemed to fall around her – or was it below her? – and when she came fully to her senses again her hand was grasping the back of a chair, knuckles painfully white. Jocelyn's arm circled around her shoulder, and the red-headed girl alternated between murmuring soothing words to her and trying to dissipate the small knot of people that was growing around them.

Allowing Jocelyn to usher her into a vacant chair, Melissa waved her hand while holding her suddenly aching head in the other. "I'm fine, I'm fine, don't you all have something better to be doing, like frolicking on the dance floor?"

The last people, offended at being addressed rudely, had left before she glanced to Jocelyn and groaned. "I feel like crap, my head is pounding...what the hell was that?"

Jocelyn's green eyes became points of light that swam in front of her. "I honestly don't know, oh, I wish I did...have you had any water today?"

"No..." she looked in the direction of the buffet table and couldn't tell if it was five or twenty-five feet away from where she sat. "I'll go. I can –"

Jocelyn opened her mouth to protest when Melissa heard a chair being pulled out on her other side. An only half-familiar face swam into frighteningly clear focus.

"Here." A crystal glass full of water was set on the table in front of her.

The chair on her left was pushed back against in an instant. "Adrian!" Jocelyn called, and in that always gentle voice there was foreign venom. "What are you doing here?"

The world swam back into focus again. Jocelyn and Adrian were both standing and facing each other, looks of distrust evident on both faces.

"Helping a fellow Nephilim...when did that turn into a crime?" Now that she looked closer, Melissa saw the tendons in his neck in startling relief. _For some reason...he's scared of Jocelyn, like he was never scared of me._  
"You always have a motive – wanna share, Aldertree? You didn't seem that inclined to helping Melissa when you two were duelling the other day – that looked more like you would love to _hurt _her_._" Melissa sniffed the water and drank when she was sure it wasn't tampered with, not wanting the world to dissolve around her again.  
"Actually, I do have a reason." After scrutinizing Jocelyn for another half-minute, Adrian took his seat beside Melissa once more. "Why do you hang out with them?"

She couldn't help herself; the laugh escaped her lips even when Adrian's face twisted in anger. "Don't waste any time with the niceties, do you?"

"I want to know why! They're not good for you, I hope you're aware. I know you're new, and just fell in with any crowd who'd take you, but they're just a bunch of Shadowhunter sheep that would do anything for their leader, and their _leader-"_

Jocelyn was around the table and between Melissa and Adrian in a heartbeat. "Shut up," she spat, earning herself a few stares from tables around them. "You don't know the first thing about us, or Valentine, or what we plan on doing to make _your _world a better place!"

"Nor do I want to," he replied, though the fear in his eyes was noticeable now, as it was in the way he jumped out of his chair and took a step to distance himself from the fiery girl in front of him. "He's building himself a cult! Melissa, if you don't want to be a part of it –!"  
"Preying on her when she's not well!" Jocelyn yelled after him, turning around with a victorious look when she saw the back of Adrian's suit disappear into the crowded ballroom. "I can't believe it, he was totally out of line."

Melissa groaned softly, her headache not gone yet. "Yeah, I'm sure he's just raving mad." Even to her own ears, she couldn't tell if her voice held sincerity or sarcasm. Normally, she wouldn't trust a word out of the mouth of a guy who tried to kill her two days ago, but his accusations had sounded too similar to a thought that she had voiced aloud herself, to Valentine no less. _God, what if he is? _She was out of her seat and halfway to the steps before Jocelyn had time to yell.

"Melissa! Come back here, you almost fainted!"

It just made Melissa want to run faster.

She found Valentine in the midst of the Accords Hall gardens, deep in conversation with Luke while Oliver picked roses for Aribelle, who giggled before leaping onto his back. _Normal, normal, perfectly normal, but..._but she had to be sure. Melissa tried to conceal herself in a glistening rosebush but made herself step into the open when her dress gave her away.

"Melissa?" Valentine called softly, somehow noticing her even when his eyes were directed the other way.  
"Valentine." A few more steps and she was in front of him. Aribelle slid off of her date's back, much to his evident relief. "I heard this rumour, and I'm sure it's just bullshit but I'd like you to –"

Her head was suddenly caught in a crushing grip, the pain exploding behind her eyes in white bursts. She detachedly felt soft grass beneath her palms and knew the renewed pounding had forced her to the ground. Shouts followed her down, Aribelle's, Oliver's, even Luke's, but not as strong as earthy smell from the ground that pressed against her cheek; she felt nails scrape at her forehead and was only half-surprised when they turned out to be her own. She wanted it to stop, _needed _the pain to stop –

Valentine's face swam into her vision, and she could see every strand of white-blond hair and into the dark chasms of his eyes, devoid of any light. "Melissa, talk to me, are you okay?"

She wondered why his gaze left her abruptly, until she heard Aribelle's scream. "_Demon!"_

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**Every review is a page typed faster! :D**


	12. Dance with Death, Part II

**Another chapter! Another huge thanks to my amazing beta, Elless. If she can edit my work like she does, I can't even imagine what her own work looks like. Let's continue!**

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Dance with Death, Part II

It was merely a word, but it provided the necessary shock to send Melissa back to reality. Struggling to throw the pain's claws from her, she rolled and thrashed in order to release her legs from the confinements of her long dress. Coming to a sitting position, she looked up to find the Circle members a few feet away, circled around her to form a thin but effective wall.

They were all looking at their worst nightmare.

A minion of hell came to life – a demon in every sense of the foul word. Darkness clung to it in unnatural waves as it emerged from the side of the gardens, a great mass of writhing skin and foulness that was slightly human. She could hear Valentine whispering its breed loud enough for his battle partners to hear and Aribelle swearing softly beside him, but above all she could hear a pounding in her eardrums that had detached itself from the pain and was something altogether different – _fear._

She was suddenly grateful to have Valentine in front of her, so grateful that at first she didn't hear the words flung back at her as he lead their race to meet the otherworldly creature head-on. A few seconds later, Melissa's mind registered the command: _run._

Her feet didn't have any time for her mind's protests. She stood up and ran a few feet in the opposite direction, the huge fountain her final destination, before her feet were hopelessly tangled in her gown once more. Melissa went down, hard. Feeling a new pain shoot through her cheek, she pulled herself up from the ground with difficulty, using the granite bench beside her as a cane. Only when she was more or less standing did she touch her palm to her face. It came away smeared in crimson.

Melissa wiped it on the fabric of her hindering dress before turning her attention to the clothing article itself, and knew that it had to go. With no backwards glances for a dress she had only half-liked anyways, she grabbed the hem with a grunt and tore, and the sound of the tear was drowned by the deafening clanging of – s_teel? – _that came from behind her. It was then, standing in a horribly frayed red dress that fell only to her knees, that Melissa looked with dread to the fighting that was behind her.

It was hard to get a glimpse of her Nephilim friends. They were running, jumping, and back on the ground again in a matter of seconds, all slashing at the horrible creature at once with shining silver seraph blades that Melissa never knew they brought. Aribelle's tight-fitting dress was now a blessing, not tangling and only constricting her movement a little while she landed blow after blow on the demon in front of her as if she had been born to fight. Valentine was undoubtedly more spectacular than all of them put together, wielding a seraph blade like it was not a piece of weaponry, but an extension of his own left hand, blocking every blow the demon dealt and paying it back with interest. A slash not detected by the Nephilim eye and one of the demon's unnatural growths is separated from its body, falling grossly to the ground to be trampled on. The thick, green fluid that leaks out almost turned Melissa's stomach as her senses strained to take in all the action. And that was when she realized that her friends were losing.

The curse that she spat went unheard even by her as the horrible fact began to sink in. _Why hasn't anyone come to help? _She was loath to rip her eyes from the scene for a moment to glance around, but when she did it was clear they were alone. Her green eyes darted back. Aribelle spinning so fast she blurred, landing a blow on what could only be called its shoulder before darting out of the way, only to be caught by a growth and flung to the ground, where she lay still. Oliver rushed to help her, blood streaming from a diagonal cut on his arm. He appeared to be limping. Valentine faced the demon head-on, making each movement just a millisecond before his enemy's, while Luke covered his back and fought behind him. It was painfully clear that even her date's extraordinary skill would not last long against this behemoth of a demon.

And that was when Melissa Ryder formulated her plan.

Running as fast as the pounding in her head would allow her to, she cleared the distance in a minute and ran dangerously close to the fight, past it and to the other side of the gardens. Looking down, she realized her bright dress would be her greatest asset, not including her voice.

"Hey! Scumbag! Over here!" She made her voice as loud as possible, waving her arms wildly to appear more threatening. An angry shout of her name in a voice unmistakeably male followed the demon's head as he slowly turned in her direction. It thundered towards her on legs much too fast for their size.

"Shit," she whispered in terror before whipping around and sprinting for the hedge. She was there in just a few strides, hands pressed against the foliage with no place to escape, feeling like her head was already in the demon's grasp, the pain getting worse with every metre it closed between them, wanting to black out, just holding on to consciousness by a thread –

The last thing she remembered was the weight of the demon crashing down on her and hot liquid splattering her face before everything went black.

Melissa came to as a cold splash of water smacked her in the face. She moaned in relief as she found that, miraculously, her head was devoid of any pain. She sat up, able to move quite freely when her head wasn't on fire.

"Why the hell am I still alive?"

Aribelle, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch Melissa lay on, grinned in relief before opening her mouth, but it was another voice who answered.

"I'm wondering the same thing myself."

Taking a moment to glance around, she found that she had been laid down to recover in the ninth year's common room, surrounded by who she could call her closest friends in the Circle – Aribelle, Jocelyn, and Valentine. It was the latter who had spoken, standing at the small windowsill with his back to the rest of them. When he turned, Melissa first noticed the already blood-soaked bandage across his forehead. Then, she noticed the fury smouldering in his dark eyes.

He crossed the room on silent feet and lowered himself onto the coffee table across from her.

"What was that idiotic stunt supposed to accomplish – besides suicide?" When he spoke, his voice was a cold whisper.

He had only uttered a sentence, but Melissa's blood was already on fire. She felt her fists clench and a different sort of pounding start in her head, outraged that whatever he was calling her on obviously saved their lives.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe not getting us all turned into Hell's minion's next meal? May I also point out that it worked?"

"Oh, come on, Valentine, it was stupid but she does have a point!" Jocelyn vocalized from her spot on the threadbare carpet. Aribelle quickly nodded her assent.

When Valentine turned his coal-black eyes on them, Aribelle flinched but Jocelyn just held his gaze. "Out. Now," he spat.

Melissa had already made a noise of outrage and thought up several furious replies to the demand when she witnessed both girls calmly vacate the room. She felt her eyes widen in shock and spun to face him, finding her voice after a few seconds.

"You would've never gotten that response from me."

He swung back to face the focal point of his rage. "Do you understand what happens to amateur Shadowhunters who face demons alone? If I had not thrown that killing blow with perfect precision, you wouldn't be here, making these ridiculous arguments!"

It hit Melissa so suddenly that it left her gasping for air. _Valentine saved my life. _How the demon fell upon her was only the result of Valentine's killing blow; by the time that it had touched her, it had already died.

Her gaze fell downwards, and she felt the heat of embarrassment warm her cheeks. Picking at the trashed crimson gown that still clothed her, her right hand swept across a dark stain on the bodice before rising to touch another stain – that of dried blood soaking through the bandage on Valentine's forehead.

"You saved my life, and I hate it," she breathed, finger deftly separating bandage from skin. Valentine's glassy eyes reflected her horrified face as she looked upon the deep, bloody gash underneath.

Valentine transformed before her eyes, anger leaking out of him as he morphed from an enraged angel to a tired, wounded schoolboy before her eyes. He pushed her hand away, and replaced the bandage with fumbling hands.

"Yes, I did, and because that demon is a Raum mutation, it wasn't alone. And because of that, there will be a demon looking specifically for you; Melissa, you need to be in a safe place this weekend. And there is no safer place than the Academy."

"Woah – hold up." Slim hands flew up in the air. "This isn't just an elaborate ploy to get me to spend the night with you, right?"

For the first time since she woke a short, broken laugh escaped from Valentine's lips. "Always the suspicious one, aren't you? Of course not. You can sleep in here if you wish; I never said a thing about my room."

Melissa collapsed back against the couch with a thump, the pain from earlier leaving her utterly drained. "I think I will, thanks," she replied haughtily, pulling the worn-out but comfy-looking wool quilt she had just noticed around her torso. "So, what's the itinerary for tomorrow?"

"We're going to track down this demon, to ensure our own safety if nothing else. But first we'll let ourselves recover, and avoid that abomination at all costs; I will suggest tomorrow that we all split up, and take a day to tour the city."

"Translation: you'll be keeping tabs on my every move," Melissa uttered with a grimace. "I won't be permitted to perform tomorrow night, will I?"

"Not unless its location is here, no."

She flung her hands up, catching his gaze and holding it with the angriest glare she could muster. "You'll be coughing up my pay check, then!"

A light of amusement had sparked in Valentine's dark eyes. "Fine," he said agreeably.

This was the moment that any teenage boy with less than honourable intentions would have made his move, crossed over to sit beside her or at the very least stroked her bare leg or something. Melissa couldn't help but be impressed that her company hadn't made any efforts to vacate his spot on the coffee table.

A silence descended upon them, but it was a comfortable one. She played with the fringe or the blanket or brushed a stray curl from her shoulder while Valentine sat perfectly still, and she found her eyes continuously darting to the crimson bandage on his forehead. After a few more moments, Melissa voiced her concerns.

"That demon's still after us, huh?" she said, finding her voice strangely hoarse.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts with difficulty. "Yes, it is." If he noticed the fear that temporarily clouded Melissa's eyes, he didn't show it. "What happened to you in the garden, if I may ask?"

"One minute I was laughing, the next someone was using my skull for archery practise...I honestly don't know."

Valentine considered her for a moment then lowered his voice, even though they were alone in the room. "Melissa...have you ever had any sort of contact with a demon?"

His face was as blank as ever on the surface, but below Melissa could just detect the disgust he harboured for the species and anyone who associated with them. It filled her with a strange jolt of fear, and Adrian's words sprang unbidden into her head. It made her want to run, but instead, she pushed the feeling down and formulated a convincing reply.

"With the way I acted out there, do you think I have?"

Valentine rewarded her with a small smile, one that she felt she was stealing from him. "Good. Now, I better take my leave, before a different type of danger arises." He looked pointedly at the brunette behind him. She gave in to a long-felt desire and blew him a raspberry.

In the next second, Melissa sobered. Maybe she felt a twinge of fear at the sight of the blonde boy in front of her, but the terror she experienced at the thought of things outside the Academy walls was ten times worse.

"Valentine?"

"Yes?" He stopped at the doorway.

"Stay with me." The last word was barely choked out. "Please."

Suddenly she was standing, with no memory of how she got there, and Valentine's arms was around her, a protective circle no demons could ever break through. He nudged her back onto the couch, wrapped the blanket around them both, and brushed a lock of damp hair off her forehead. It was the last thing she felt before she fell asleep.

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**:'D Reviews are love! I'm not too sure how many people are following this story, so if you are I'd love to hear a line or two of what you think of it so far.**


	13. Debts Owed, Debts Paid

**Happy to see that I'm able to stick with at least one story for a year. Yes, I don't know the actual date but I do believe that it's near or past Merely A Luxury's one year anniversary. I'm not getting any consecutive reviewers, but thank you so much to anyone who's read the story to the point that it is now. I'm thinking it will be complete pretty soon! **

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**Chapter 12: Debts Owed, Debts Paid**

The first sensation Melissa noted was the comfortable feeling of the sun warming her cheek and the absence of arms around her. Scrambling to a sitting position while shielding her sleep-sensitive eyes with a groan, she cast her gaze about the deserted common room before coming to the conclusion that had already sprang into her head. _Of course he isn't here, he left right after your stupid ass fell asleep on him after getting down on your knees and begging him to stay_. She ran a stray hand through sleep-flattened curls, wondering why she cared in the first place.

She finally persuaded herself to rise from the naturally heated couch fifteen minutes later, cringing when she beheld the faint reflection of what was once a beautiful gown, now torn and stained beyond repair into a crimson mess. After moving forward to better observe the damage, Melissa unstuck thick strands of dark hair from their position on her scalp and discovered that whatever had come out of the demon last night was also in her hair.

"_Gross!"_ she shouted with revulsion, not caring if every student in the building was now awake. She jumped back from the reflective surface as if it housed a contagious disease and scanned the room once again; looking for any object that could help with her current predicament. Deciding a shower was the only cure, Melissa grabbed the worn quilt she had slept under as an afterthought and wrapped it around her hair like a cloak. If she encountered any early-rising students on her journey to a dorm room she recognized, they would hopefully be too distracted by her strange attire to notice the state of her hair.

Creeping out of the common room and feeling extremely idiotic with her decorative blanket, Melissa was met with silence. She scanned the first few mahogany doors and saw no last names she recognized save for Aldertree, and she would rather walk home in her current attire for a shower than ask to borrow his. A small wave of anger surged through her as she realized that a trip home for any reason was out of the question, all thanks to Valentine. _I have half a mind to march home right now, just to piss Mr. Mighty Warrior off. _The blood-curdling image of the demon still seared on the inside her eyelids was the only thing that kept her in the Academy's halls, searching for a familiar dorm.

A few more doorways passed before she stumbled upon Valentine's room, not forgetting that he was the object of her anger. Reluctantly pushing that thought aside, Melissa ran her finger across the surface of the brass _Morgenstern _plaque before trying the doorknob, feeling a strange shadow of hesitation pass over her. The hesitation turned into shock when she found it open.

"Valentine?" she called softly, stepping into the room illuminated only by the daylight pouring in from the single window. Since the layout was identical to Aribelle's, she was quickly able to locate the closet and bathroom doors with her eyes. Closing the door behind her, Melissa walked to a small table sitting beside the still-made bed, one of the only decorated furniture items in the room. As her eyes passed over a framed group picture of the Circle, she wrapped the quilt tighter around herself as a chill shot through her that the sun outside did nothing to soothe. _Where is he?_

Heart fluttering with the same anxiety that was present last night, Melissa crept to the bathroom door, releasing a sigh of relief when she noticed the faint outline of light around the door that was hard to pick up at this time of morning. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open, letting the breath out when she was halfway through.

"By the Angel, Valentine, don't you ever do that again when a demon just about ate me last night or I swear I'll..." her voice faded away as she noticed the state of the boy in front of her. "Oh."

The only shred of fabric that clothed him was a towel wrapped partially around his waist, sitting just above the indentations of his prominent hip bones. Water dripped from his white-blond hair and ran in rivulets down a toned, fair-skinned chest, decorated from waist to neckline with the swirling raised scars of faded Marks. They were on many other places too, scattered on toned forearms and trailing down the hip and thigh that the Academy-provided towel exposed. The only fresh rune leapt out at Melissa, a circling black mass of lines that sat high on his left collarbone, and a detached thought told her it would be visible even with a shirt on.

It was only after she had gotten a good look at the rest of his body that she pulled her gaze up to find that he was smirking.

"Close your mouth, Ryder; you're much more attractive with it shut."

She couldn't decide whether she wanted to kiss him or hit him. With a few more seconds' worth of thinking, she chose the latter.

Forgetting about her demon-gut-soaked hair until it was too late; she swung the quilt off herself and whacked him with all her strength, not wanting to touch any naked skin. Valentine jumped out of reach of the main force of the blow and chuckled, black eyes looking at the mass of tangles sitting on her head.

Melissa seriously considered taking out the bathroom mirror with her next swing. She finally found her voice enough to spit out a question. "What in the Angel's name were you doing in here anyways?"

"Taking a shower and Marking myself. Surely you see the stele in my hand, or were you too distracted?"

Only then did she notice the silvery translucent instrument grasped in his left hand, the one not holding the towel. It suddenly overcame her, the annoyance and unfairness that the male in front of her was naked and still confident enough to grin smugly while she was struggling to string coherent words together. And the fact that, no matter how many times she tried to deny it to herself, she found both those facts to be extremely appealing to her.

"Go to hell," Melissa spat, "I bet your family misses you terribly, since you've been on earth so long." And she made sure the door slammed extra loud on her way out of the bathroom.

She was sitting on the pulled-out desk chair picking idly at her quilt when Valentine emerged from the bathroom, this time fully clothed in a white button-down shirt and dark slacks. Her sudden anger had faded somewhat, leaving the usual dislike and a head full of snarky comments. Melissa stood and threw her blanket around her head once more and made a beeline for the bathroom doorway, pausing when she reached her destination.

"Who Marks themselves while naked, if I may ask?"

Valentine laughed before sitting in the chair his fellow Academy student had just vacated. "I do, because I need to Mark every part of my body. And yes, you can use my shower."

He received a glare as response to the last sentence, but it changed to a look of shock as his words sank in. "What do you mean, _every _part of your body?"

"Use your brain for once, Ryder." The wicked grin that played across his thin lips was enhanced by the few strands of damp hair that fell in front of his eyes.

"Woah, woah," she spluttered making a sound of disgust for good measure as she slammed the door for a second time. Melissa flipped the lock and combed her hair before undressing, trying desperately to cool her warm cheeks and keep thoughts of just what body parts Valentine was referring to out of her head and.

Half an hour later, she was out and towelled off and puzzled to hear voices from the other side of the bathroom door. Melissa froze, horrified at the fact that she would have to venture out past unknown people in attire only Valentine would be comfortable donning in order to retrieve clothing that was nowhere close to being here until she spied jeans and a white collared shirt folded neatly in a pile on the counter. Upon closer inspection the jeans were made to fit a woman, about two inches too short and much tighter than Melissa was comfortable with on her own body, leading her to believe that they belonged to Aribelle (and just how had Valentine acquired these, she wondered?) Slipping the shirt over her nondescript black bra, she noted the largeness of it on her frame and realized it was Valentine's. She ran her fingers through her damp hair in replacement of a comb and prepared herself to venture out, praying that Valentine's new guests weren't anyone she knew. It had just dawned on her now that emerging from her date's bathroom while clad in his clothing would paint a suggestive picture that she really didn't desire at that moment.

Luck had obviously deserted Melissa today. An all-too-familiar face curtained with blonde hair lit up with a painfully mischievous grin while Luke, sitting beside her on the floor, just wore an expression of extreme shock. There were others, so many that Melissa wondered how they could all fit in a single dorm room: Jocelyn, Leila, Oliver, the black-haired teenage couple that Melissa had observed on her first Academy day, and a few other boys, including Valentine himself. Only the Circle's leader and her red-haired friend wore unreadable expressions, everyone else seemed to be in some state of disbelief or amusement.

"_So _not how I wanted to first present myself to his whole freaky little club," Melissa muttered before she was swept into a tidal wave of questions.

The worst were from Leila and the teen couple, now known to Melissa as Maryse Trueblood and Robert Lightwood. Oliver and Luke, seeming quite alike in personality, got up the courage to start throwing a few less R-rated ones at her- "Why did you need to take a shower – is that his _shirt?" _Strangely, her closest friend was nowhere to be found among the group of harassers.

"No, Oliver, it's a pair of Valentine's pants. And if that demon had spilled its entrails on _you, _you'd want a shower as well."

"But, not at _Valentine's _dorm-"

"Did he look like he was going to let me go back last night?"

Maryse's thin face butted into her line of vision. "Are you expecting us to believe that you killed a demon?"

Melissa felt her blood boil in anger. "No, it wasn't me, but I'd like to see _you _land a blow with a seraph blade using those twig-like arms of yours."

A look of outrage crossed Robert's face and he was about to leap to his girlfriend's defense when Valentine made his presence known at the front of the room, with a specific glance in Melissa's direction. She started to vocalize an insult to further aggravate her opponent and her host combined when both Maryse and her boyfriend moved as far away from her as possible without another word. All eyes on her, Melissa sat down with a curse, finding herself next to Leila, whose questions had been more humorous than accusing. A silence fell as the whole room found a place on the floor, and it dawned on her then just how much control Valentine had over his peers.

"Circle Members," he addressed, "This meeting has been called without warning nor schedule, and I am pleased to see that so many of you made it. A demon made its presence known last night at the dance, and I am sorry to say that we are the only ones who know of it."

Murmurs broke out, all wondering why they did not see said demon, but Valentine silenced the room with a wave of his hand.

"You did not know because it only attacked Luke, Aribelle, Oliver, and I. We managed to kill it, but we are sure that there is another, possibly its mate, still in the area with our scent in its nose. We need all our members to assist on this; I trust you are not opposed to spend your Saturday hunting?"

The nods and grins of anticipation agreed with him. Valentine had started sorting the students into smaller groups of four or five when a hand shot up.

"You can't be taking the new girl along with us, right?" It had come from a boy sitting beside Maryse and Robert, looking like he was fairly new to the Circle himself and wearing his membership proudly on his sleeve. Melissa was up in an instant.

"When we find this demon, I'd like to see you go up against it with nine years of training taken away from you and your status as a new Academy member constantly being shoved up your ass. And please notify me when you do so, so I can bring the popcorn."

The dorm was silent, but Melissa guessed that she hadn't quietened them with charisma and eloquent speaking. She looked to Valentine, expecting a yell of rage, but was only met with perfectly constructed face of exasperation. What was beneath it Melissa could only guess.

"And allow me to introduce Melissa Ryder, the newest ninth year Academy member. I would encourage you to talk with her, but as you've seen what happens next, you may not want to take the risk. I was going to tell her to go wherever she felt most comfortable, but since it seems that she cannot handle the company of other members, she will have to come with me. I suggest you all get going." Valentine signalled the end of his speech by answering a question from a nearby member in a softer voice, then walked over to Melissa.

"We should be off, before you start your fourth fight today," he said in a tired voice when he finally stood before her. Her cheeks reddened and for once she only felt embarrassed.

Melissa hadn't known there were this many people in all of Alicante, much less this amount of people all crowded into one place at once. The smells of livestock, baked goods, and everything in between assaulted her nose, while the chaos was only made bearable by the many nights spent in various clubs and bars. Valentine had dragged her, almost literally, into the center of the Nephilim country's most famed Saturday market, claiming that no demon would ever be able to find her amongst the hundreds of other Marked individuals. When she had asked why they weren't trying to find the demon themselves, he had silenced her with a frightening glare that she had made darker with every impertinent remark.

Now, she was having a difficult time following Valentine himself in the growing throng of Shadowhunters, let alone a bloodthirsty demon.

Her peer's light blond hair suddenly disappeared from her view altogether. Her heart instantly raced faster, the cause being both panic and pleasure equally. If she lost him, she would be free – a full-time guard wasn't necessary, right? Her mind hadn't gotten much further when a strong grip pulled her into a less crowded sub-section of the market.

"Thought you'd lost me, huh?" Valentine quipped from his relaxed position near a bun booth.

Melissa shot him her customary glare that she was becoming more and more accustomed to using. "No, I was following every little twist and turn your Shadowhunter feet made as they wove expertly through the sea of millions. Just took a wrong turn somewhere – have there always been this many people in Alicante? Where the hell were they all hiding before?"

"Nephilim from the surrounding mundane countries often make a day trip to this market every now and then," he explained, examining a freshly baked potato bun thoughtfully. "I probably shouldn't have taken you here demon hunting if it's your first time. People can be a bit pushy."

The stall baker's voice made them both turn sharply. "Hey boy, are you gonna buy that?"

Valentine barely gave the baker a glance, and Melissa saw the almost instant twitch of his jaw. "Then quit loitering, screwball kids." When Melissa made to turn her freezing stare on the adult in front of her, Valentine grabbed her arm again and pulled her to a rare clear area in the row of stalls. "I see what you mean," she agreed, glancing back and then pointedly at his hand. The hand upon her arm loosened and gave her an apologetic pat before releasing.

She stepped back, uncomfortable with the closeness and interested in a jewellery stall to her left. "Hunting demons, my ass," she muttered, but if Valentine heard her, he gave no outward sign of it.

A fine silver chain was the first object that found its way into Melissa's curious hands, but she quickly put it down after she caught a glimpse of the price tag hanging from the shining gold medallion at its center. Admiring the jewellery was only the second thing on her mind as she swept her eyes over the stall's wares and kept them away from Valentine's. The boy had moved to stand beside her in an almost cliché alpha-male stance, and she could sense his eyes roaming over her face. He stared at her unabashedly as she fingered the bracelet without actually seeing it, and the possessiveness that she saw in his eyes caused her blood to boil all over again. Melissa looked down, cheeks heated in anger, and saw that she had already tried the silver bracelet on without realizing it. It took more than a few seconds for her brain to process how much she liked the look of the small, intricate links of the chain on the backdrop of her ivory wrist.

"Are you planning on buying that, ma'am?" the jeweller asked sharply from behind the crowded counter.

"Did everyone here wake up to soggy cornflakes today?" Melissa wondered to no one in particular. "No, dammit, I'm just loo-"

"Yes, actually," Valentine cut in from his place to her left. His hand emerged from his pocket with bills and a few coins. The stall keeper took them with a suddenly good-natured nod and waggled her eyebrows knowingly at Melissa, who scowled and started walking, new bracelet dangling on her wrist.

"If you do one more thing for me, you're dead meat," she muttered as they braved the market crowds once more.

"I didn't see you giving it back to the vendor, though," he replied, although no accusing tone was detected in his voice. "I haven't done that much for you, have I?"

Melissa stopped in the middle of the street and rounded on him, causing a small traffic jam. "Hmm, what about giving me some friends, buying me a bracelet, and saving my life? No, I don't think that you've done that much, come to think of it."

There was a feeling in her, one divided into duty to her debts and anger in such equal parts that it became a new emotion of its own. She opened her mouth and found it blurting a sentence of its own accord.

"I want to join the Circle, as soon as possible."

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**R&R as always! I would love to get a review or too, any feedback is appreaciated greatly.**


	14. Nephilim in Progress

I'm incredibly sorry for the wait, for anyone who follows this chapter by chapter (I'd love to know who- drop me a line?). As thanks, here's the knowledge that chapters 14 & 15 are completely typed and 16 is soon to be there as well. And I've been getting a lot of inspiration due to the reading of the new, amazing book in the Mortal Instruments series. This is a personal favourite chapter of mine. :) Enjoy!

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**Chapter 13: Nephilim in Progress**

"If we totalled the amount of distance you've dragged me today, we'd be halfway across the county," she sighed as Valentine herded her into a crowded coffee shop, hand firmly grasping her arm. He looked at her once and weaved through the throng of people to the counter, leaving Melissa to stake out a vacant table. She made a beeline for the only free two-seater in the room and shifted her body weight from her feet to the chair with a breath of relief, not used to walking more than a few blocks in any given day. Idly scratching runes into the already-graffitied wood of the table with her fingernail, her thoughts drifted to how her endurance level would change all too soon, when she began the more rigorous aspects of her Academy training. She looked about the shop, happily directing her thoughts elsewhere when she saw Valentine at the front of the line-up.

"Two shots, please! I don't want to sleep a wink tonight!" Her naturally powerful voice rose above the din. She glared at any person who chuckled at the wrong interpretation of her request.

He was soon coming towards her, dodging people with two steaming coffees in his hands. Melissa took the one she was offered and sipped the strongly caffeinated beverage while looking at Valentine over its rim. Sizing him up, she waited for him to start the conversation. Melissa had expressed the desire to join the Circle, but she would wait for its leader to initiate the official conversation.

It didn't take long for him to do just that. "You say you want to join my Circle," he started, black eyes blank as usual, "And regrettably, I don't carry the initiation vows with me everywhere, but-"

"Do you carry them with you _sometimes?" _

Valentine shook his head, though Melissa snorted as she took it for a gesture of exasperation. He brought his coffee to his lips as she savoured the warm light and the lull in conversation, wondering if she was about to make the worst decision of her life since talking to the boy in front of her. The soft tap of ceramic on wood made her look up.

"Hm, I could have sworn that you just bought me a coffee a moment ago."

That received a soft laugh in response. "Melissa, what you're about to do for me is worth ten coffees." When she lowered her gaze to the table, she was surprised to discover that her hand was covered by a larger one, scarred and callused from years of hard training. She realized how the physical connection between them could stimulate her mind to create a deeper, more emotional connection. _I bet the girls just fall all over him when he does this, s_he mused. _I wonder what he does to the boys? _She felt a grin spread across her face, and when she looked up, Valentine's own mouth mirrored her own.

"But, I want to know that this is something you're ready for – that your heart is committed to it. There's nothing I like less than an apathetic Circle member. I need to be sure that you're not doing this to impress me, or something –"

The laughter poured from Melissa's mouth before she could think of stopping it. "The _last _reason I would be doing this is to impress _you, _my friend. I am doing it for my own purpose, and I'm sure Raziel knows what that is. I have not been sheltered from the time I set foot in this city and have heard in bars and dress shops alike just what the Clave has done to help our species – and to ruin it. I have no love for them and only a little more love for you guys, particularly Aribelle. Jocelyn isn't half bad either, actually. If your little cult is making plans to fight the Clave on their suffocating laws, I want in, even if it's fifty years in the future. I want to fight."

Across the table, there was a new light shining in Valentine's eyes. His features were blank as ever, but his eyes danced with a pride that Melissa had never imagined would be directed at her. Since when does one look down proudly at the thorn in his side before yanking it out?

She was over and leaning across the table before he had time to open his mouth. "Don't even think about it," Melissa warned, one hand clamped firmly over his mouth, "I know that you're going to tell me not to do it just because I feel I owe you something. It may be a _teeny-tiny_ part of it, but no, it's not even half. Hmm, what's that?" She giggled as Valentine's words came out as a muffled mess. "Say that again, please?" His glare looked ridiculous by the hand that covered both his mouth and part of his nose.

"Please take your hand off me," he muttered as she released him and fell back, laughing, into her seat. The sparkle of pride in his eyes was so long gone that she could have imagined it, but Melissa was sure that she hadn't. She couldn't have imagined that it would make her heart beat a mile a minute.

"You know," Valentine said, taking another sip of his coffee, "I may have to implement a new Circle policy. Don't touch the leader."

"Oh my, however would those lusty Circle girls survive?"

He deemed her question unworthy of a response. A light ignited beneath the surface of his dark eyes and spread, and suddenly he was sitting up even straighter than usual, looking into her eyes as if a connection their lives depended on ran though their shared gaze. The light that warmed the shop seemed to congregate in his glowing blond hair, filling it until golden rivers ran down his sharp cheeks and illuminated his whole body from the inside. At this moment, Valentine looked every bit the leader he was rumoured to be. _Or an angel. But with what intentions? _Her decision would now give her more time than ever to find out just that.

"Now, I want you to repeat these lines back to me: _I hereby render unconditional obedience to the Circle and its principles. Our goals will never cease to exist, just like the symbol we are named for. I will be ready to risk my life at any time for the Circle, in order to preserve the purity of the bloodlines of Idris, and for the mortal world with whose safety we are charged by the Angel Raziel."_

Melissa said every line and then stared at Valentine in a stunned silence. It was only then that the window above them shattered with a crash and glass rained down upon them like hail. Her head burst in a deafening pain that blocked out every other part of the world.

It may have been five minutes or fifteen when Melissa came to, cheek pressing into the cold, slick floor of what was once a coffee shop. Head pounding and body not responding to the most basic commands, she struggled to move herself into a semi-sitting position, wiping the sticky substance off her cheek with a sluggish arm. Her surroundings crashed down upon her senses before she had time to register the smear of red across the back of her hand.

If she had thought the market was chaos, it was nothing compared to the pandemonium that was enclosed in the painfully small coffee shop. Tables and chairs where everywhere, scattered, broken, smashed underneath the feet of innocent people who had stood up, whipped out angel blades, and suddenly became Shadowhunters. It took a moment for her eyes to pick up that they weren't fighting each other; oh no, they were all together, fighting the mirror image of last night's creature that had appeared in the center of the room.

A fully-grown male Nephilim was facing off with the demon, stepping around it on quick feet to avoid the dripping liquid that the floor around its feet was already slick with. He struck, feinted, and dodged a nearly fatal blow to the head in the time that it took Melissa to drag herself to her feet, leaning heavily against a nearby table and fighting her own battle for consciousness against the raging pain in her head. No matter how fast the demon's limbs fell, detached, from its body, new ones pushed through its leathery flesh seconds later. The demon's clawed hand connected with the Shadowhunter's leg as he kicked out, shredding his dark pants and opening a visible gash in the man's lower calf. Melissa breathed in sharply as he was thrown back and replaced by a pair of women, obviously _parabatai. _Miraculously, he stumbled to his feet and, catching sight of Melissa, started limping in her direction.

"You're awake –" he panted between breaths, "Do you know where that boy went?"

She found her brain so alarmingly sluggish from pain, fear and nausea that she could hardly piece two words together. "The boy – what? Who?"

Concern flitted across his face, seeing that she was far from well. "The boy who's been at your side these last twenty minutes, protecting you from that beast over there! I don't – I can't seem –" his eyes widened in horror as they fell from her face to her neck. "Miss, your –!"

But, Melissa was already turned and facing the fight once more. "I think I found him," she whispered, voice barely a squeak.

While absent a moment previous, he was now in the very thick of the mêlée. He had come up between the two women and cut once, twice, only the telltale flash of silver telling of the blade in his grasp. Quick as lightening, Valentine dodged as the demon reared up and shook the floor with a bellow. His blond head resurfaced seconds later as he stood and placed a downwards blow in one fluid movement. Melissa found herself unsurprised that he was better than most of the fully-grown adults behind him.

Yet, he was still human enough to leave his left arm at his side a little too long. She saw the demon's opening a moment before it took advantage of it.

The man beside her lunged for her arm just a moment too late. Melissa took off, shoving the pain behind her and the people in front of her to the side as she raced against the demon's claw to get to Valentine first. It was the first time she had realized how _fast _she could move, hands grabbing at her and slipping just as easily as she neared the center, just as Valentine's eyes widened only slightly in understanding and he whipped it away. He was a second too late. A hooked claw sliced through skin and muscle like butter, and Valentine stumbled back with uncharacteristic clumsiness as his blood spilled onto the floor around him.

Melissa was left at the front, facing a demon with no weapon to speak of and voices all yelling different commands at her. Her head was on fire, feeling like a blade was being forced through the crown of her scalp, but when she shut her eyes tight Valentine's blood burned crimson on the back of her eyelids. She was moving, kneeling beside him, and when she stood up again, an angel blade was clutched in her hand – her _right _hand, with the swirling eye etched forever on its back by the boy whose life she was aiming to save.

She raised it high as the demon's main limb came into range and hacked, putting every ounce of strength into that one downward blow. Her head pounded viciously as she sawed, but the pain started to lessen as the sweet adrenaline rush of battle took its place. Soon, the limb had fallen at her feet, and she had blocked a feeble attempt at a blow to the head while already singling out another body part to dismember. She was fighting, and Melissa felt more alive than she had ever been before.

Two more limbs had been separated from demon when she realised that there were others all around her. They angered Melissa, as she remembered how they had stood aside as Valentine had landed blow after blow. There was soon no room to move, and a foot came between her own and floor, putting her so off balance that not even her dancer's instincts could save her. The blood-stained floor rushed up to meet her, yet there was something between the ground and her face. When the glass shard that was embedded in her cheek hit first, her head exploded with pain that she hadn't known existed.

Her vision swam as she fought the battle for consciousness once again, barely managing to come out victorious as she crawled hand over hand towards Valentine, who was miraculously still conscious and struggling to maintain a kneeling position a few feet away. The pain overtook her again, and she stopped to bring up whatever was left in her stomach, but she arrived at his side a moment later anyway. Instinct took over as she stumbled to her feet, half-pulling Valentine up in a surge of strength. They leaned on each other as they struggled to put one foot in front of another. She gasped in relief when they were out the shop door at last, and her intense headache lifted in the same instant. Throwing one last look over her shoulder, she couldn't quite believe that the people were still crowded inside, but they no longer had any weapons in hand. The demon was nowhere to be seen.

When she turned back to Valentine, she found him leaning heavily against the building's side, attempting an I-am-totally-okay pose that was failing miserably. His arm was still leaking a trail of blood, and the shirt sleeve he was using to staunch it was soaked in crimson.

Yet, the only word he breathed labouredly was, "Nice."

Melissa caught his eye in amazement. "I'd love for you to inform me what was anything near nice about that situation."

"You," he replied, something that could have been a smile flashing across his face before it morphed into a grimace of pain. "I had my doubts, but you might turn out to be a decent Shadowhunter after all."

"You're only bargaining on _decent?" _she breathed, too tired to be annoyed. She noticed Valentine start sliding down the wall and stepped closer, arms encircling his larger frame and hauling him to his feet before he hit the ground. A yell of pain made her flinch away again. They both slid down the building's wall, landing on damp pavement. Melissa's borrowed shirt was stained red from pressing against the arm that Valentine was clutching in agony.

"Oh shit, that was really stupid, I'm sorry," she stuttered as she knelt beside him and peeled away the sleeve of his shirt. The sight of skin sliced to shreds and raw muscle that met her set her stomach rolling, but there was nothing left to bring up. As Valentine murmured assurances beside her, Melissa's heart sank bitterly as she felt utterly helpless for the second time in two days.

"It's fine," he said again, louder. "This could be a lot worse if it weren't for you." She was amazed that he wasn't taking her to task for joining the fight in the first place. Maybe her chance of injury was overshadowed by the fact that they had gotten out alive.

"Melissa," he started, lifting a hand to touch the small glass shard that was still embedded in her cheek. His fingers closed around it and tugged, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. Only when the bloody glass piece was clutched in his hand did he open his mouth again, but was cut off by a shout.

"There they are!" Leila's familiar voice carried across the deserted alley and darkening spring sky. Melissa brushed Valentine's hand from her face with unnecessary force before standing.

Her acquaintance ran towards her with two dark-clothed boys following behind. She took one look at Melissa's bloody figure and pulled her into a hug, ignoring the other girl's mumbled protests. When released, Melissa turned to her battle partner, surprised to see him on his feet close behind her. She watched with slight admiration as Leila took in his image without flinching. The only thing that lit her blue eyes with surprise was the male hand that was placed protectively on Melissa's shoulder.

Nevertheless, she smiled. "Since we obviously can't go back to the Academy, we've found a little house a few blocks down that we can bed down in for the night. Let's get you two back there, pronto."

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**More reviews, faster updates!**


	15. Just a Game

Apologizing for the slightly slower updates- several chapters have already been written in advance but my beta is having a very full school life at the moment. She's done so much awesomeness that it's not a problem at all, though. :) This chapter is a little bit on the filler side, so no bang-bang-beat-'em-up at the present. Look for little tidbits of plot, though- they're still there!

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**Chapter 14: Just a Game**

"Little house" was a bit of a misnomer when applied to the building that Leila led them to. Even though she assumed that he already knew of the place, Valentine fell back behind his Circle members, letting the blonde girl in front lead while he leaned heavily on Melissa's shoulder, something that escaped everyone else's notice. She started to wonder if they were forcing themselves to not detect their leader's weakness.

Darkness had finally fallen when they stood outside a small two-floor home that had clearly not been inhabited for years. The musty interior was in a little better shape than the peeling paint and loose boards that the outside sported, protected from the elements as it was. Yet, it didn't stop clouds of suffocating dust to billow up at each step, floorboards creaking as they moved.

"This place gives me the creeps," Melissa commented as she navigated around a Persian rug that could have been hiding loose wood panelling. Valentine had stopped using her as a makeshift crutch when they had entered the house. Leila laughed once as she led them upstairs, but it was obvious that she wasn't that comfortable with their temporary housing either. When they arrived at the top of the narrow landing, the only sounds heard were Valentine's sharp intakes of breath every time his injured arm shifted. It looked thoroughly uninhabited, until one of the Circle boys stepped to the master bedroom door and sketched a quick rune on its surface with his stele. The burnt lines sank into the grey wood instantaneously, and voices were immediately heard from inside.

Aribelle was the first one to their side. "By the Angel, what happened to you?" she exclaimed, eyes ghosting over the gauze pad that covered Melissa's pale cheek. She let out a little shriek when she saw Valentine's arm, wrapped in a makeshift sling of torn shirtsleeves. Holding his good arm with a healer's touch, the small teen girl ushered him over to the portable first aid kit on the other side of the room, already open and in use from the look of the white bandages that were wrapped around the limbs of a few of the people around it. It was nowhere near as occupied as Valentine's dorm had been this morning and Melissa could pick out quite a few familiar faces – Luke was hovering by the first aid kit, Oliver and another boy were watching worriedly from places by the only window, and Jocelyn was sitting cross-legged on the double bed sporting a curious expression. Thrown into relief by the light of a few candles, Melissa recognized one of Leila's henchmen to be Robert Lightwood (sans bitchy girlfriend).

Other than that, the dusty bedroom contained only a few woollen blankets, the previously mentioned candles and a box full of homemade cookies and sandwiches. Melissa snatched a cheese one before falling onto an unclaimed blanket, utterly exhausted.

Aribelle had almost finished wrapping a proper bandage around Valentine's forearm when Leila sat beside them; she leaned across her patient's body and asked her something in hushed tones. Leila nodded immediately while a look of exasperation crossed the Circle leader's face. It didn't prevent Aribelle from standing and calling everyone's attention with a cough.

"Okay guys, with the exemption of Valentine and Melissa over there, we've all been here for a few hours, and it's definitely time to do something. I'm not sure about the rest of you, but hunting down a powerful demon in the dead of night is _not _my idea of fun. Any suggestions?" She obviously held one of her own, but kept it to herself for the moment.

"We could practise?" Jocelyn offered from the bed, fingers on her waist sheath.

"This doesn't look like school to me, Joce. Others?"

"Fuck, marry, kill?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Robert. And no, Lucian, don't even think of asking because eating is not an activity." Luke took his hand out of the food box and closed his mouth.

"Now, for my idea. What does everyone say to a few rounds of Truth or Dare?"

Melissa choked on her mouthful of sandwich, trying and failing to see how that was less rude than Robert's suggestion. Aribelle caught her eye and laughed, crossing the room to sit beside her dark-haired friend. Dragging Melissa and her blanket from against the wall, she beckoned everyone into a circle. After a few words, all of the others reluctantly complied.

It was only after everyone sat in a circle formation in the center of the master bedroom that Aribelle spoke again. "So, since I doubt I'm going to get a volunteer –" she snatched an empty rune-decorated water bottle from the food pile and sat it in the center before pushing one end. It span around ferociously, coming to rest with its nozzle pointing to Luke.

Aribelle and Jocelyn chuckled in delight. Melissa shot an apprehensive look across the circle at Valentine, who was awkwardly leaning against the wall while trying to keep his bandaged arm in a comfortable position. He smiled at her briefly, holding her gaze a second longer before she turned to look at his best friend.

The friend in question was waiting nervously for the customary question. "Luke, truth or dare?"

"Uh, truth?"

"Spoil-sport," she teased, tucking her curtain of blonde hair behind her ear before continuing. "Okay, here's a question we all have been wondering. Are you gay?"

Luke turned cherry red as the room erupted in laughter. "Um – ah, no!" he stammered, cooling down slightly as he noticed the teasing looks on the majority's faces and Jocelyn elbowing him good-naturedly. "Just 'cause I've never had a girlfriend doesn't mean, you know..."

"Then prove it!" Leila called. "Kiss Joce!"

Beside him, Jocelyn turned almost as red as her hair. "Nuh-uh, we're friends _without _benefits, and I'm all for keeping it that way." Melissa wondered if she was the only one who saw the look that crossed Lucian's face. "Luke's only in love with Valentine as much as every other guy in here is, _including _himself." That brought a few more chuckles, and Melissa laughed along with them.

"It seems you've started a trend, Melissa," Valentine spoke up from his place against the wall. "Now everyone's making fun of me."

Aribelle gave her thumbs-up before continuing. "Okay Luke, spin!"

The bottle landed on the only unfamiliar face in the room. After some calling of his name, Melissa took note that it was Michael.

Luke visibly relaxed, knowing the pressure was off him. "Hmm, how many demons you reckon you killed in your life?"

The few shouts for a more R-rated question didn't reach Melissa's ears. She was sizing the boy up, guessing that he was the same age as Valentine, Aribelle, and crew. _He can't have killed more than a couple, most kids their age haven't even tried one, but with this Circle business...still only a couple._

Michael ran a hand through his hazelnut coloured hair before replying. "I haven't kept count," (obviously a lie) "but I would estimate at a half-dozen." From the way the others were nodding along, obviously _not_ a lie.

She couldn't believe that a boy ten years her junior had slain more demons than she had even laid eyes on. It made her hands clench to in fists and her ears rang so loudly with his sentence that she did not notice the bottle nozzle pointing straight at her.

"You're the new girl, right?" he asked amiably, and only received a nod in response. He paused a moment before smiling. "Then draw a rune. Any rune – let's see what you can do."

His dare was merely a friendly way to show off her abilities, but it only made her jaw clench more. Not being able to refuse, she reflexively glanced at Aribelle, who handed her crystal stele over at once. As Melissa's hand closed over the instrument, their eyes locked and her friend's lips formed one word: love.

She was twirling the stele, stalling, when understanding flashed in her mind. Yesterday's class was the first time she had attempted to draw a rune with a proper stele, and had marked a sheet of paper quite well with the scrawling symbol for love.

Positioning the tip above her inner elbow, Melissa forced herself to be still as the tool drew inky lines upon her ivory skin. It was only as she returned the stele to its owner and visibly relaxed that she realized she didn't have a clue what the rune actually_ did_.

Most of the members just nodded in approval and motioned for her to spin the bottle, but she noticed the small smiles on Aribelle's and Valentine's faces. She rolled her eyes in annoyance when they were looking, but pride still bubbled up inside her when she moved to give the bottle a knock.

It spun lazily to point to Jocelyn. "Okay, I hope you guys know I have no clue what I'm doing here," Melissa admitted, meeting a small grin from the redhead across from her. "Any suggestions?"

"First you ask them _the _question," Aribelle explained. "Joce, truth or dare?"

"Truth all the way."

Aribelle sighed. "You guys are all lame. Okay...have you ever liked anyone in this room?"

They all watched avidly for a blush to creep across her ivory cheeks, but were all disappointed. She rolled her eyes, lips stretching into a smile of exasperation as Luke elbowed her. "No, not at all! Every guy in this room is either my best friend, almost a stranger, or has five times their weight in fan girls. So a definite _non, merci._"

As they watched the bottle spin, no one caught the fleeting glance she gave to the brown-haired boy on her left.

When it stopped to point at Robert Lightwood, Jocelyn's grin gave away the idea already formed in her head. "Robert, truth or dare?"

"Oh, what the hell. Dare."

Aribelle gave him an approving look as Jocelyn said, "Kiss Melissa."

The collective female presence of the circle exclaimed happily as Melissa stared at Jocelyn in disbelief. "C'mon...there has to be some T&D law about involving others?"

"Actually, the opposite – everyone loves two-person dares."

"Oh, woah..." she cast her eyes beseechingly at her acquaintances while passing her fingers over her cheek bandage. "You're really going to make us do this?" No one leapt to her defense, and Robert only left his place in the circle and inched closer to her. Melissa shot him her weirdest look before realizing that she'd actually have to go through with this.

His lips were not the most horrible thing she'd ever experienced, but they were only allowed a few seconds on hers. Sitting back so quickly she almost fell, the thought leapt unbidden into her head that it was also her very first kiss.

Melissa watched, mute, as an hour filled with uncomfortable or downright strange facts were unearthed, and people were forced into things that she was almost certain they'd never attempt if it wasn't the middle of the night. When the bottle finally came back to her, she was ready with question in mind and a smirk across her face.

"So, Aribelle...how far have you and Oliver ever journeyed into the land of bedtime activities?"

Her closest friend's mouth fell open in shock, while her dance date's eyes gave saucers a run for their money in a competition of size. "So, _so _not fair," the blonde insisted, "That is a two-person question if I ever saw one."

"Which are, as a certain Aribelle last told me, totally within the rule boundary."

"She got you there," Valentine nodded.

Obviously defeated, Aribelle shot the meanest glare she could muster at Melissa. However, it didn't hold a candle to Melissa's own freezing stares.

"Okay, so we've made out...obviously...and that's about it." Oliver nodded along with her, but it seemed as though he'd still nod if she asked him to jump off a cliff.

Leila cat-called and Luke took it upon himself to wolf-whistle. While Oliver's faced was flaming red, the blonde beside him just shrugged it off with a laugh and gave the bottle a kick.

It landed pointing to Valentine. He just gave Aribelle a look, daring her to give him the worst dare she could think of. Her eyes took on a strange sparkle just before she took him up on his unspoken challenge.

"I dare you to kiss Melissa."

In response, Melissa covered her head with her hands and groaned. "Why me?"

Aribelle laughed in response as Valentine shifted his weight awkwardly onto his feet and walked across the circle, a nonchalant look in his eyes that Melissa couldn't decide if she loved or despised. She turned to her friend beside her to avoid his gaze and found something she couldn't name settled in Aribelle's hazelnut eyes as well, as if she was – _testing? _– the outcome, and focused on reading them until a hand turned her face towards its owner.

"Scared? It's merely a kiss," he whispered, black eyes dancing with mirth. He was close; she could feel his warm breath on her wounded cheek. His fingers were touching the bandage but were stroking it too lightly to cause any harm. She cast her eyes around frantically, seeing Aribelle looking at them with an expression of solid understanding, knowing that everyone was watching them. Fear leapt to her throat because she knew this was different than Robert's kiss, she brought her hands up, ready to push his face away –

And his lips were on hers. And while Robert's had been warm and unmoving, Valentine's were firm, but still so soft as he used his hand resting on her cheek to press her mouth harder to his. And then it was over. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt the warmth of his hand leave her face. It was as though she had donned blinkers; she was sure there were things happening on either side of her, but her eyes could not leave the person in front of her.

She couldn't have described what happened after the kiss that night, head still spinning amidst the movements of the Circle dividing itself between the master bedroom and the room beside it to sleep for the night. Melissa found herself dead tired, sitting on her blanket in a fresh shirt and sweater and fully intent on sleeping the moment her head hit the floorboards. The last thing she remembered was Valentine crouching down in front of her with his arm in a sling, touching her bandaged cheek and whispering, "Goodnight, Shadowhunter." She could not have said if it was reality or fiction.

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**Reviews are the icing on the chocolate-vanilla marble cupcake of life.**


	16. First Friend

Again, I want to apologize _profusely _for the lateness of the chapter. Buuut... Merely a Luxury is officially FINISHED! No, not with this chapter! *cue sweatdrops* No, but I _do _have all the chapters written and that means they will be posted tres quickly. Hope you don't hate me too much~

**Warning: This chapter has swearing and slight themes of physical abuse. Nothing horrible though. **

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**Chapter 15: First Friend**

Melissa woke just as the sun rose and could not lull herself back to sleep to save her life. The warm rays were soon pushing the room's temperature uncomfortably high, making her woollen blanket constricting. She rose with wrinkled clothing, pulling a generic hoodie over her head and her hair into a messy, curling ponytail as she hopped over sleeping bodies on her way to the window.

It was a day like any other in Alicante, but it was the first time she hadn't woken up alone. Sunbeams fell over the sleeping faces of Michael and Robert and set Jocelyn's hair aflame where it lay scattered across the dusty floor. _Joce, _she heard a familiar voice say, _we're not at school anymore! _The speaker was nowhere to be seen – most likely asleep in the next room. Melissa wondered if she would ever be comfortable enough to call the sleeping redhead Joce, or if she would be known as anything other than Melissa to the blonde in the room down the hall.

The room was only missing one person, and she turned to find him seated a few metres away, sun turning his blond hair white.

"Early riser?" he asked softly. His good hand cradled the bandage that had replaced last night's sling.

"Not really," Melissa laughed. "You're usually hard-pressed to find me awake before noon, but today..." she let her words trail off, unsure of what to say.

Valentine pushed himself into a standing position and she found herself unable to look at his expression of pain. "I don't think I ever thanked you for rescuing me last night," he said when he stood beside her. "So thank you. I guess I'm in your debt. Any chance of being able to repay?"

Images of his face much closer to her own surged to the forefront of her thoughts. The space between them was suddenly uncomfortably close, and she took a hurried step away that she was sure he noticed before replying. "You saved my life; I saved yours, now we're even. Are you sure you don't have any jabs about my intellect up your spacious sleeve?"

He laughed, but there was nothing light-hearted about it. "I've found that battle skill is learned before battle sense. And since it seems like you lack more than just _battle _sense, it might take you double time."

Melissa swatted his arm, and if any others had been awake they would have gaped. "Yes, _I_ was the one who single-handedly fought a greater demon to protect a girl who delivers insults every thirty seconds. If that's battle sense, I'm not sure I want any."

"I've discovered a way to quiet those insults," he half-grinned, lips parting to reveal straight teeth. "Put that mouth to a better use." All of a sudden she remembered those lips on her own.

"Like eating," she said stoutly. A few paces later she was at the food box, pulling out an apple to prove her point. Valentine nodded slowly from his relaxed position on the wall, yet she did not relax, noting the almost predatory look in his eyes.

"You're not going to chastise me, but you should," she said when she was near the sunlit window again. "It was stupid. Please smack me if I ever do anything like that again."

"Then I have a feeling you're going to graduate with a very red face," he said. "So you'd be okay with the loss of my right arm?"

She chuckled and bit into her apple. "Sure. It would take your ego down a few notches." He waved his uninjured arm to remind her he was left-handed and she swore dramatically. "But really, we should have left it to the adults. And note that 'adult' is not a synonym for 'teenage boy.'"

"You really believe that?" His eyebrows rose a mile.

Melissa cringed at his knowledge of her. "My head does, yes. But my heart, strange enough, is itching for another fight. And I'm sure you've noticed that the latter usually triumphs."

Her heart lurched as he closed the gap between them with a single step. "My instinct is the same. I thought it was a male thing. Yet my head seems to be able to control the urge a bit better than yours does."

Her eyes caught his own as large hands gripped her forearms tighter, pushing back hoodie sleeves to trace lines of the love rune with callused thumbs. The half-eaten apple hit the floor, and his face was inches from hers. She could feel the blinkers being donned once more. "Is your head in control right now?" She was putting her feet out gingerly, exploring territory so unfamiliar it terrified her.

Valentine grinned and looked years younger than the powerful leader everyone claimed he was. "I think this is a joint effort."

He had only pulled her an inch closer when the scream started. The blank mask slipped on in a second and in the time it took for her arms to be released he was the Circle leader once again. In the next second he had already disappeared.

Melissa forced herself into movement and raced out of the bedroom just as the others were waking, pushing everything but the distressed call to the back of her mind. She stood in the next room a few seconds later, noting nothing unusual save for the looks of plain horror on the occupants' faces. Lucian's arm around her shoulders was the only thing keeping Leila on her feet, yet his expression was just as shocked hers. Oliver looked like he might cry. Even Valentine looked pained, staring at a blanket on floor as if it held much-needed answers, and that was when Melissa figured it was not something in the room that was amiss, but the _lack _of something.

She took a hesitant step forwards. "Guys, where's Aribelle?"

Leila just shook her head despondently, breaking free of Luke and moving to hug the pitiful-looking Oliver, who was obviously pinning most of the blame on himself. But when she turned to ask Valentine, a spark of cold understanding lit deep within his eyes.

He was at her side in a second, holding her upper arm in an iron grip, as if he expected her to run at any minute. When she instinctively stood her ground, he hissed "_Come here" _venomously through clenched teeth. She was dragged through the door and halfway down the hall before she ripped her arm from his grasp in a surge of strength.

"By the Angel, you're_ hurting _me!" she yelled. When he made to grab her again, she summoned her Nephilim strength and slapped him.

The crack of flesh on flesh echoed throughout the dusty hallway. He fixed her with a stare, eyes glittering dangerously as they bored into hers with none of the kindness and daring of the last fifteen minutes. Whatever conclusion he came up with in light of Aribelle's disappearance had made him livid.

When he tried to grab her with both hands she was ready, hitting both hands away with her own before jumping back. He drew his injured arm back with a barely concealed flinch and this time Melissa didn't feel an ounce of sympathy.

"I've asked you once, and I don't believe you were honest with me," he hissed, voice quiet and a thousand times more menacing than a yell. "It does not look like we've been coincidental prey. These demons are targeting us, but why? Why did they stake us out, first at the dance, then at the shop? But I ask you this first: _why did they always focus on you? _I had to physically stop the second demon from tearing you limb from limb in Alicante yesterday. I was merely a nuisance in its way. _It was trying to get to you. _I was incredibly stupid not to see it at the very start. So I ask you again, Melissa Ryder: _have you ever had any contact with a demon?" _

She had never been frightened of any person before, be it man or woman – she had always been overly confident in her ability to insult. No matter how big, brawny, or downright badass they looked, if she threw some one-liner about their intellect at them, it had always confused them enough to grant her a running head start. By the time they had shaken off the jab and started looking for the physical fight, she was long gone. And the ones who were smart enough to step around any word traps, Melissa looked only to engage them in a battle of wits, and that was the kind of fight that she participated in gladly. Yet now, as she watched his burning gaze and clenched fists parallel his internal struggle for control, Melissa felt fear bubble up in her chest. She now knew that Valentine, though a powerful ally and friend, held no qualms about hurting her when he thought she was deceiving him.

"And I told you, I _haven't," _she replied, willing her voice to sound just as strong as his. "It seems like the demon has some freaky interest in me, but I have _no clue why. _Do you want me to repeat it? _I have no fucking clue."_

"You have no idea, then, why the demon took the person that _you _were closest too as a hostage?"

Her heart turned to ice. "Hostage?"

"Yes, _hostage." _He said the word harshly, trying to guilt her into answering. "So I suggest you spill any information you've been hiding from us, so we can save a valuable Circle member before it's too late."

Melissa was frozen. _Whatever I do, I cannot tell him. Anyone. You saw what he did to you when he suspected you, what would happen if he actually knew? _ She unconsciously rubbed her arm, sure that a bruise was forming beneath her hoodie. If there was any remorse in his black eyes, she couldn't see it.

"Shit," she moaned, leaning against a wall and sliding down the peeling wallpaper until she hit the floor. "She has to be alive still, right?"

"That is the purpose of a hostage, yes," Valentine answered, still eyeing her distrustfully from a standing position. "She is in no immediate danger until we are lured to its nest, or wherever it's keeping her." She was numb from his news and his anger, eyes fixed on a spot on the far wall. She barely noticed his pant-clothed legs walk towards her until he crouched down and his face was in her line of vision.

He was forcing the anger out of his eyes with difficulty. "I want to trust you, Melissa," his voice floating over her, all venom leaking out. Melissa kept her face guarded. "I want to, but I need to understand why a demon would go after a Shadowhunter he doesn't recognize, or less I will be forced to believe the more obvious explanation."

"You didn't really want to believe me five minutes ago," she muttered. His face stayed impassive, waiting for an answer. She sighed heavily.

"I don't know off the top of my head, but maybe it knows about the Circle? I've heard demons can be pretty smart – smarter than us sometimes. If it knew about the Circle, it would obviously try and single out the leader, to kill them...and if there was no obvious leader, than it would go for the oldest-looking. That's me." She forced herself to stop then, knowing that she would ramble if she didn't. Melissa willed her eyes to stay trained on Valentine's, to not give any indication that it was lie. Though the first part was true – even if she had had contact with a demon previously, she did not know why a different one was aiming to kill her now.

He took a few more seconds to read her and then stood, while Melissa suppressed a sigh of relief. Valentine let her back into his good books with a small smile, yet she knocked the offered hand aside and climbed back onto her feet with no assistance.

"What happens now?" asked Melissa when they had returned to the main bedroom. All the remaining members had gathered there, seemingly waiting for instruction from their leader. She had next to no experience with teenagers but when she pushed her cloud of worry aside long enough to think about it, she was sure that they weren't usually this obedient.

"Now," Valentine said, raising his voice to address the room as a whole, "We hunt. A dear friend of ours has been taken by one of the foul creatures we have sworn to remove from this world. It is certainly lying in wait for us, so we must proceed with caution, as one group. It will not attempt to kill her until it has us, and even then it will know it doesn't have its true target," he looked pointedly in Melissa's direction. "But please do not provoke it to change its mind. We will first take Aribelle back, and _then_ we will kill it."

A few cheered, but most looked on silently with stricken expressions of shock and determination in equal parts. Melissa guessed that, while hunting demons might have been a biweekly occurrence, none of the Academy students before her had ever had to save the life of another – let alone a friend.

Valentine stepped away from the window. "Let's be Marked and out in thirty minutes." He turned in her direction before she even started towards him, pulling off his loose white button-down one-handed. She was met by a bare-chested Valentine, sunlight catching the ridges of old runes and making them dance in a way that was so very Nephilim. He drew his stele from the pocket of his pants, ready to cover the white scars with fresh black marks.

Every other person in the room followed suit without a second glance, and Melissa mentally kicked herself for being the only one with burning cheeks. "And how do I fit into these plans?"

He smiled grimly, like a boater in anticipation of a storm. "You showed much promise in the coffee shop yesterday, I'll give you that. But I wouldn't take you on this rescue mission if you got down on your knees and begged me shamelessly – though I would enjoy watching."

Melissa felt the storm rising.

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	17. Completely Hypothetical

Happy to be getting these chapters out faster now. :]

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**Chapter 16: Completely Hypothetical**

The incessant pounding of her feet on hardwood was nothing compared to the rage pulsing through Melissa's head. She paced across the floor of the main bedroom, raising dust clouds wherever she stepped, glaring around at the room that was now her prison.

Valentine had at least had the decency to clear the Circle members out as soon as possible after his decree that excluded Melissa. If Aribelle had been there Melissa was certain she could have wheedled the demon's suspected hiding places out of her, but even thinking about her blonde, spunky friend who was now held captive by a demon made her stomach clench painfully. The only other person she was comfortable enough with to bug was the leader himself, and bug him she did. A half hour of cajoling, pleading and even a screaming competition later, the only progress Melissa had made was in making herself look like an absolute idiot.

The first object in her sight met her foot with a resounding crack – the bottom-left corner of the bed hit the floor, its wooden leg now cracked almost in half. She focussed her attention on the apple she had discarded next, the cause of its fall far from her mind as she kicked it into the wall with as much force as she could muster. Only when the fruit's remains were splattered across the rose-patterned wallpaper did Melissa sink down onto the lopsided bed and seethe.

A small, rational, and very detached part of her mind understood why they couldn't make room in their rescue party for a Shadowhunter with barely two weeks of training, but it didn't stop the rest of her irrational thoughts from being filled with exactly what she'd like to do to the Circle and its members, particularly its leader. It had taken almost a year for the managers at various Alicante clubs to realize the full potential of the Glass City's newest dancer on the scene, and knowing that it would take at least as long, if not longer, for the Nephilim population to give her credit despite her late beginning brought back the sting of her previous years as a dancer. Melissa didn't think she'd ever hated her parents for keeping her from the world more than at the present. As the sun rose to sit almost fully overhead, an errant thought washed over her along with the warming sunbeams.

"Valentine said _stay," _she said out loud to herself, bouncing a little on the bed and feeling it sink an inch lower. "But..." _When exactly have I ever listened to Valentine? _

The idea rivalled the ridiculousness of the time she had thought to try eight consecutive Russian jumps onstage. It was possibly her stupidest idea yet – and that was _saying _something – but Melissa had to admit that she relished the very thought of it.

She was up and searching the room within the next thirty seconds. Two short sheathed daggers left unwittingly in Oliver's clothing pile went through her belt first, and she had the luck of discovering a crumpled women's fighting top while searching Leila's small stack of supplies. It was a little small in the shoulders and rode up to show a thin line of ivory skin at her waistline, but when she had figured out the wrist buckles with a little trial and error and moved to admire herself in the single cracked mirror, it did wonders for her confidence to see a young woman clad all in black with actual weapons staring back at her. She grinned, relishing the confident smirk on the foreign woman in the mirror, and moved to open the dusty door to her left. Sighing as it stuck in its frame, she heaved all her body weight against it and all she got was a thud. It didn't take a third time for her to realize no mere hands had the power to open it at the moment.

Melissa swore vehemently, startled by the eerie and unnatural way her curse word of choice echoed around the old bedroom. She fully knew she should have expected the Circle leader to lock her in the one way she hadn't yet learned to combat. It still did nothing to quell her growing rage against him. She started pacing, trying desperately to ease the expanding feeling of helplessness within her. Her foot found a knapsack that lay in her path and wanted to take her anger out in violence once again for no reason other than it felt good. Melissa had only caused the sack to move an inch before a silver object fell out of it.

It wasn't anywhere near as shining as Valentine's had been at the coffee shop, or as fluid-looking and graceful as Aribelle's, yet it was still a stele. Melissa was holding the battered instrument in her hands in less than a minute, only then noticing the hastily-scrawled note that was wrapped around its handle.

There was a single rune drawn on the scrap of crumpled paper, black ink bleeding spidery veins onto the whiteness of the page. When she unrolled it completely, a chunk of coal-like rock fell to the floor and skittered a few feet away, leaving faint marks on the wooden panelling. Understanding at least the first part, Melissa retrieved the rock before running to the door.

"Work, work, _dear Raziel, please work," _she hissed as she brought the stele tip down upon the door. The feel of the tip on wood instead of skin was different – it was as if the panelling was repelling the instrument's tip like the two objects were similar magnets. She traced it as best she could from the paper and in a moment a simple image of lines and a circle sat a few inches away from her face.

The stele gave a shake as she lifted it off the wood. Pain shot up her arm as far as the elbow, but it was nothing compared to glass embedding itself in her cheek. She dropped the stele like a hot potato, watching it clatter through the now-open door and down the hall while shaking her stinging hand. Yet it had nothing on the danger that she could imagine the only person she'd ever – well, _liked _–was in. Melissa started off to the only place she knew might hold answers, picking up the stele as she ran down the hall like the bedroom had just caught fire. For all she cared, it very well might've.

Every time Melissa tried to navigate the Academy's extensive halls she found her destination faster than the previous time. She shoved the uplifting thought to the back of her head as she jumped the stairs leading to the ninth year floor three at a time, trying to calm her mounting panic with physical exertion. It had been a plan of hers since she set her feet in the school's direction, running full-out for at least twenty minutes to reach it, yet it didn't seem to have worked in the slightest.

Arriving at the top of the winding staircase only a little breathless, Melissa was faced with a choice. She recalled the shape and colour of the bag she had retrieved the stele from and realized with a jolt it was Jocelyn's body she had always seen nearest to it. _Jocelyn left a stele and a clue where she knew I could find it, but didn't have the decency to actually spell out where they were going? Or maybe the rock talks._ She glanced down sarcastically at her already soot-blackened palm, but the stone didn't seem to be giving any more answers than it did in the city. Even Melissa didn't have the time or rudeness to break and enter into Jocelyn's dorm, so she steeled herself with a sigh and pushed the door with the _Morgenstern _plaque open.

It was unlocked, like she was sure they had left it yesterday, and nothing appeared out of its usual meticulous place. Melissa often wondered how a teenage boy could be so startlingly neat – or maybe it was easy, since she wasn't sure she could put the object count in here in the twenties. A bed, desk, chair, a closed closet, and a small bookshelf were all the room boasted. It was to the shelf that she ran first. But Valentine's collection was only made up of the usual Academy textbooks, a few of self interest (mainly fighting and demonology), and some completely foreign to Melissa.

She shifted through the titles in a matter of minutes and came up empty. Rising from the center of a pile of books, she took one grudging look at the mess behind her and prayed that Valentine wouldn't be as furious as this morning. But the relief was almost tangible when her priorities fell into place without any thought; Aribelle's predicament was a thousand times more frightening than any outburst of Valentine's. Melissa took the little comfort she could in the fact that, while raised away from society and had contact with a demon, she still had the thoughts and feelings of a semi-normal human being.

Now without a clear purpose, fear was pulling her in all different directions when Melissa exited Valentine's dorm and almost collided with her Nephilim History teacher.

He stepped back and eyed her suspiciously, with what she imagined teachers had dubbed the "Miss Ryder Glare." As his mind totalled up the fact that it was Sunday, and she had just come out of Valentine's room, the glare's intensity tripled.

"Does Mr. Morgenstern happen to be in there?" he breathed in horrified astonishment.

If her best friend wasn't being held hostage by a demon it would've been hilarious. In the current circumstances, a chance of detention was terrifying.

"No, sir!" she replied, consciously replacing her expression usually reserved for authority figures with one of respect. "By all means, check!" _And then let me go the minute you're finished._

He did, Melissa's heart beating in time with the rapidly disappearing seconds as the teacher scoped Valentine's empty dorm room. When he poked his head back through the doorway, his expression had changed to disbelief. "Where is he hiding?"

Melissa resisted the urge scream in frustration as Professor Cartwright checked every hiding place imaginable with the pace of a disabled snail.

By the time he was standing in front of her again, she could feel the sweat congregating between her palms. Her hoodie was suffocating, but she didn't want to know what Cartwright would say if he saw the _Morgenstern _embroidered on the shirt beneath it.

"Mr. Morgenstern is an extremely bright student, almost certain to excel at anything he goes on to do," Cartwright started, "And I do _not _want a fellow student getting in his way. He's had a tough year, and people have different ways of dealing with that, but by the Angel, if you two are found simultaneously absent for a class –"

Valentine's life story annoyed her ten times more than it usually would. "Look, a demon couldn't get between Valentine and his Shadowhunting," Melissa stated, refraining from laughing at her pun. "You and your little golden boy have nothing to worry about. Now, if you'll excuse –" A thought had leapt into her head, so amazing that she could have kissed whatever had given it to her.

"Yes, Miss Ryder?" he asked, now impatient.

"Before I say anything this is all completely hypothetical," her words were spilling out as fast as they possibly could. "Do you know where this rock came from?"

He took the offered rock with sudden interest. "How is a rock hypothetical?"

"Not the rock, what I'm going to ask afterwards. Do you know?"

"It's most certainly from a type of deep cave that extends hundreds of metres into a mountain. It's the only way to get stone as old as this. Some Shadowhunters keep rock collections, so they can leave certain pieces to other Hunters to tip them off on a demon-hunting location." Melissa's heart skipped a beat. "This looks about the right size to be from one of those. And there's no guarantee that this is correct, but the closest caves are at the side of Lake Lyn – you must know Lake Lyn, the one where the Angel Raziel rose from the water with the Cup and Sword –"

"I know about the damn Angel, he's only painted on every wall in the Academy," Melissa said, too relieved to see her professor's horrified look. She now knew where the Circle had gone. The prospect of hearing the answer to her next question terrified her, but she swallowed her fear and pressed onwards.

"And one more. Say if a demon were to take a hostage, with the intent to lure someone the hostage was close to out, what would happen if a big group of trained Nephilim went to finish the demon but that group didn't include the demon's point of focus? I mean, the person the demon wanted to get to in the end. Would anything unusual happen to the group that went to confront it?"

"Are you doing a mock battle scene report on this?" He scrutinized her. All Mr. Cartwright needed to complete the image was a pair of glasses.

"Something like that, yeah."

"Well," he started, taking his sweet time, "It would be a positively horrible idea. The demon would figure out that the object of its intent isn't there in a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds. You're talking about a demon with the focussing trait in its nature, right?"

Melissa nodded wordlessly, her throat too dry to speak.

"Then it would most likely go for the hostage. Demons like that treat hostages almost like an unspoken agreement, with an if-the-object-of-my-intent-comes-I'll-give-you-back-the-hostage-type mentality. So if the person or thing isn't there, it'll be enraged. Like I said, it'll go for the hostage – _or, _if there is a person with an obviously leader-like personality in the rescue group, it'll go for them. It would want to deal the most grievous blow to the group for cheating it of its desire, you know? I just taught part of this theory to my senior demonology class last week."

Her heartbeat was so loud it could deafen her. _And you thought Valentine was the perfect, most brilliant student? He obviously chose the single worst class to not pay attention in. _She turned on a heel and took off down the hall, running as only a young Shadowhunter can.

"This is all very hypothetical, right?" Cartwright's voice echoed down the otherwise deserted dorm hallway.

Melissa didn't hear his words. The idea that she had lied to Professor Cartwright broke the surface of her thoughts; his golden boy most definitely had something to worry about.

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	18. Ratio Regum

Get ready for some trip-trip-trippyness.

**Warning: Chapter contains violent images. Nothing too major.**

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**Chapter 17: _Ratio Regum _**

For the first time in her life, Melissa was gasping for breath.

She had broken into a semi-sprint once out of the Academy's double oak front doors and hadn't stopped running since. She remembered feeling mentally exhausted after a convoluted dance routine, but it was nothing compared to the physical exertion she had just put her body through.

The earth felt heavenly cool beneath her sweaty palms as she fell to her knees in a sea of long grass. Huge, rolling hills swayed around her as her vision blurred in fatigue. Melissa focused all her mind power on breathing, feeling the ground's moisture soak the knees of her jeans with a strange sort of detachment. The scenery surrounding her was beautiful, but she barely noticed it. Alicante was a green city, but the fairy-tale picture of an emerald valley cut in two by a shining river was a foreign sight to Melissa, something from what felt like another lifetime. She was too torn apart by anxiety, fear, and exhaustion to appreciate the scene – until a sheet of blue gleaming in the sunlight captured her gaze. It was still a half-mile away, but it was there it was; a lake, and she could see it from her vantage point on the hill, beside the main road. _The _lake. And her sharp eyes could pick out a dark pinprick higher up and left of the glimmering body of water.

It ripped her from her mental coma. She struggled to her feet with a groan, propelled by the fact that it was close enough to see. Melissa had made up the perfect scenario in her head: the clue on the rock would lead her straight to a convenient battle field just outside of the city. They'd win with ease. They'd get back to the Academy in time for Sunday dinner.

But the day had come with the rude awakening every young Shadowhunter experienced in their lives; it was _never _that simple. In her fantasy world Aribelle would have been rescued within the hour with minor scrapes and bruises, and Valentine would have been beside her; exchanging jibes, making her want to punch him, but at the same time, doing exactly what he has always done best: leading. Melissa knew something now. If you wanted to get the chance to rebel, you needed a leader first to set down the rules so that you knew exactly which to break.

However, _this_ wasn't anything like Melissa had imagined it to be. She was alone, tired beyond belief, and in a place she'd never seen in her life. Not one, but two people – _friends?_ –were in danger. And they definitely weren't making it back for Sunday dinner.

She pushed her legs into motion, setting her pace to the fastest jog possible while travelling down the hill, grass swaying around her knees. Her common sense wasn't stellar, but she knew actually attempting to fight when she arrived in this state was akin to suicide. As she neared the lake her view of the cave's entrance grew clearer – it was up a good sixty meters on the hillside, a combination of smooth hillside and boulders between it and the ground level to where Melissa stood.

Melissa skirted a grove of stunted trees and found herself a few paces away from the lake's edge. Allowing herself to slow to a walk, she arrived at the shore, feet leaving deep textured footprints in the sand.

"Lake Lyn," she pronounced, letting out what little breath she had left in a semi-sigh of awe.

Her black-clad torso was sweltering in the spring heat. "A Nephilim holy place," she continued, reciting what little of the textbook she remembered out loud to keep the mounting fear at bay. "_The _Nephilim holy place. The Angel Raziel rose out of this very lake, what- seven thousand year ago? Fifteen thousand years ago? Sorry Cartwright, don't remember that one."

Melissa stepped forward. And then took another step. Then she was running through the lake's shallow waters, the feeling of the water's coolness through her boots beyond heavenly. Stopping halfway across the lake, she bent down and splashed the water across her face, barely remembering to close her mouth tightly before it touched her face with blissfully cold fingers. What Melissa did remember was the professor droning on about the lake's poisonous side effects if consumed.

Her head whipped around in a spray of droplets as she turned to take in the lake's glory for a second more. Dragging her heavy feet against the water's pull, she righted herself and was staring directly into Valentine's face.

A gasp escaped her mouth as she lost her footing in shock. She clutched at him, the only upright thing near her, as he grabbed her arms in a strange, loose grip that was very unlike him. Once righted again, she swore, feeling lake water trickle into the tops of her boots.

"What in the Angel's name where you thinking, idiot? _Shit," _she breathed shakily, drawing her arms away from his grasp.

A tiny smile played across his face. Melissa's fast breaths turned into shaky giggles. A quick evaluation of his body showed her no rips, cuts or bloodstains. And he was here, alive. They had obviously gotten Aribelle out with no trouble at all.

"How the hell did you cross a lake without me hearing you?" She waited for the answer but all she got was the smile. "Oh, secrets of the trade, I bet. You do know that I just ran from Alicante to this godforsaken place in under three hours, right? And I don't even get an apology?" He angled his head, an almost animalistic gesture, but stayed mute.

And suddenly she was laughing, so elated everything had gone as planned that she didn't give a damn whether he could be bothered to answer her or not.

She finally recovered enough breath to ask Aribelle's whereabouts, splashing her feet in the shallow water to keep cool.

"She's just this way," he finally spoke in a monotone that she guessed was brought on by battle fatigue. Yet it was still shockingly different from the way his voice sounded normally, always stuffed full of intensity and persuasion. It had bugged her before, but it was the startling absence that rattled her now.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. The sun beat down on his face from a slanted angle, turning his hair white-gold and his cheekbones into angular, lethal points.

But his eyes. They were so dark and held such an absence of light that it made her breath hitch in her throat.

"Fine, now that I know you are," he replied, his voice changing to accommodate the smile his lips were bent into. His hands clasped around her arm again – not loose, but iron tight.

"Son of a –" she struggled against his grip for the second time that day, yet he started walking her towards the opposite shore as if he held a feather. "Valentine, _stop it!"_

"The more you struggle, the longer it will take," his voice was patient, as if soothing a child. "There are potholes all along this path – to fall in would mean death."

A chill shot down Melissa's spine as she saw they were already halfway across; they were in the _middle _of the lake.

She stayed mute and froze when she glimpsed a body lying on the rapidly approaching shore. Shining hair more golden then she'd ever seen it before spread out in a halo around Aribelle's head. Melissa had never realized just how small the Shadowhunter was for a girl her age. Her eyes were closed, but the lids began fluttering as they stepped out of the lake and crossed the last few meters to the sleeping girl's side.

There was not a single blemish on her body to be seen on the skin the white dress she wore exposed. _Demon clothing? _Melissa turned back to Valentine. He gestured to Aribelle, as if Melissa didn't know she lay there. _I don't believe a teacher has told us of a demon clothing a victim before._

She knelt down beside Aribelle, feeling Leila's shirt ride up around her waist. "Hey, you alive?"

Her eyes sprang open to reveal irises as white as Valentine's were black. "Not for long, love."

Blood as red as sin bubbled from her open mouth as her body aged before the eyes, the frame elongating another two inches as her cheekbones raised and her face matured. But it was the blood that stopped Melissa's heart. She had never seen so much blood in her life. It spilled over Aribelle's lips and stained them like lipstick, the crimson turning her golden complexion pale. The neckline of her dress turned red as another wound blossomed on her abdomen like the petals of a rose. Yet she still talked, rasping on in an unidentifiable language through a throat thick with blood.

Melisa screamed and turned around into Valentine's waiting arms.

"It's okay," he whispered, "As long as you know I love you, it'll be okay." The quiet tone struck Melissa as sickeningly perverse. She struggled more violently then she'd ever before yet in another second his lips found hers.

He tasted like death. She screamed into his mouth and bit his bottom lip viciously, yet no blood came. She felt water through her boots, rising past her knees and deeper than Lake Lyn had ever been shown in photographs.

Breaking her mouth away from Valentine's using all her strength, she glanced into the rising water and didn't see her reflection.

A young woman with fiery red hair with black tips stared back. In the few seconds she could stand watching, the tips grew out and loose red waves grew from her head, framing a face that was familiar and most definitely not her own. Ripping her eyes away from the image, she lifted a piece of her hair. Melissa had no remark for the lock of red hair that she held with shaking hands.

"You're beautiful, see?" Valentine whispered, still holding her in an iron grip. "And it will be too." His released her to find the small bulge where her flat stomach had been.

"No!" she ripped away from him and fell to the ground a foot away. "This – by the Angel, can't be –" She was choking, able to feel the tears streaming down her face. "I can't – the demon –"

Her breath froze when a painfully familiar figure emerged from the trees bordering the sandy bank. It was herself, and everything about her was exactly the same. The new Melissa cleared herself of the shadows, walking a few paces before her head snapped up to meet her own gaze.

Her doppelganger's eyes were as black as Valentine's.

Her mind was screaming to run but she couldn't have run if her life depended on it. Two shapes began moving on either side of her mirror image, and when they stepped out of the trees it became clear they were teenagers. One was a boy, tall and golden, his hair and determined expression reminding her of the friend she had just watched die. The other was a female with curling red hair, everything but her tininess and lack of runes screaming familiarity. The boy was Marked as heavily as Valentine.

They turned and exchanged what could only have been a word with her double and starting walking over, raw purpose in every step they took.

Hands gripped her from behind, pulled her up and spun her. Valentine's lips only had time to form the words "_Ratio Regum" _before the golden boy unsheathed a seraph blade and stabbed him from the back, blood dripping from his white Academy shirt like wine.

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Melissa scrambled from the ground with a scream. She yanked a dagger from her waist and brandished it at the air before falling to the ground and retching, bringing up nothing but air and water. _Lake water. _She stared at the moist puddle of ground, uncomprehending.

_It was a dream._

_It was a dream._

_It was a hallucination._

She pushed herself off the ground, her mind doing nothing to slow her racing heart. She looked around. The lake was behind her now, and she never wanted to see it again. The entrance to the tunnels was just a fifty meter uphill trek in front of her. Her friends – yes, _friends_ –were in there. In danger. But not dead yet.

Melissa braced herself and moved forward.

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**Type the chapter title into a translator (it's Latin) if you're curious. R&R!**


	19. Bittersweet Victory

Wow, I think I just realized that there's only one actual chapter left and then the epilogue. It's really gone fast. Hope you enjoy the final stages- I'll leave the sappy thank yous to later. :]

**Warning: Swearing throughout chapter.**

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**Chapter 18: Bittersweet Victory**

Aribelle closed her eyes and willed herself to be anywhere but here. Letting her body fall back on the cave wall with a defeated sigh, she raked her dirty fingers through her already filthy blonde hair. The lack of food for at least 24 hours was setting her stomach rumbling painfully but it was nothing compared to the sounds of torture that were crashing upon her eardrums.

The cave's rocky walls and damp dirt floor were the first sights that met her eyes when she had woken, moaning from a head wound that still felt as if a blade was being driven into her skull. She had leapt to her feet, shutting out everything but her Academy training as she measured the width of the cave floor in five hurried steps then made to crawl out of the place's tiny entrance. She hadn't bargained on waking again after an immeasurable period of time, dragging herself up from the place where some demonic force field had knocked her out cold.

She could piece bits of the story together then. Something had snatched her while Circle members had slept all around her at the Alicante house and had brought her here to this godforsaken cave for a reason she had yet to comprehend. Aribelle had analyzed it from all possible angles – she had been trapped for hours in here. The Circle could be well-known amongst demons – but did demons even have a grapevine? She almost laughed at that thought before clamping a hand over her mouth, both from horror and the pain that just made itself know in her ribcage. _Laughing at yourself: the first step to insanity._

And then the noises began and she wondered if she was already there.

They had been faint at first, like footsteps and displaced stones sounding through walls, picked up by Aribelle's hypersensitive ears. She had never realized how much being extensively quiet could heighten your hearing. Her heart had been set thumping – not in fear, as it had been, but at the prospect of rescue. But when the screaming had started, she began to wish she was deaf. The barrier was obviously not soundproof. The noises of battle had leaked through steadily after that. She had lost all sense of time then, only marking the minutes by each cry, clang, and distinct rip of blades tearing through flesh. Familiar shouts and screams echoed in time with the pounding in her head, and when she finally shoved her head between her knees in agony, the tears couldn't be held back anymore. Aribelle sobbed freely for the first time since she was eleven, her friends' and fellow member's faces seared onto the backs of her eyelids. She was quite certain they were risking their lives to get her out of this mess.

_But I'm not sure I want them to. _Shadowhunters were not afraid of death, but right now, Aribelle was terrified.

A much closer scrabble at the mouth of the cave made her jump in shock. It was less than a third of the shock she felt, though; when she crawled painfully over to the invisible barrier and saw her friend's face peering back at her.

Melissa's face mirrored exactly what she thought her own to look like – streaked with grime and blood and tears. The wound on her cheek had reopened, leaking a snail's trail of blood down her chin, and underneath the dirt, her usually light skin was so pale it was as if she had seen death itself.

"By the Angel, what happened?" Aribelle's voice turned the reflexive question into a scary croak.

At that moment, she let her breath out. For underneath all the hurt, a spark of humor caught fire in Melissa's green eyes. And Aribelle knew that whatever had happened, she was going to be okay.

Her chuckle was made half of pain but there was mirth alongside it. "Absolutely nothing," she choked out, absentmindedly feeling along her cut cheek. "It's hilarious. I'm sure everyone else is battling their hearts out here – I heard the racket – and I was able to hurt myself, no demon necessary." When her fingers came away bloody, she eyed them with mild surprise.

Aribelle saw that she was glossing over one or more situations that she had encountered, alone, and wasn't planning on telling a soul. But Melissa was here and looked to be as mentally sound as she'd ever be. That was all that mattered to her at the present.

"Trust Aribelle to ask how _I'm _doing when I'm not the one who's been _abducted," _Melissa continued softly. "Please tell me head wounds always look worse than they are."

"It's nothing." Hand outstretched, Melissa made to reach through the barrier.

Aribelle's shout stopped her a moment before it would have activated. "A barrier –" her words were getting heavier as her throat grew drier "– some demonic aura thing. I don't know how to undo it."

Fear danced in Melissa's eyes but she cloaked it with a smirk. "All trapped up, nowhere to go…"

She shot her friend a look of concern as Aribelle released a faint, pained noise. It took another minute for Melissa to realize she was laughing.

"It's just so weird," she choked, hands darting to clamp down on the horrible pain in her ribs. "You're the only person I've ever met who could…joke at a time like this."

"Thank me for it when we get out of here," Melissa advised. "We have a way to go yet. What could counteract a demonic aura?"

Aribelle's mind was shouting the answer before her lips could form the words. "Angelic presence. A stele should do the trick." Melissa was for once without words, a strangely familiar stele gripped in her right hand. What had been eluding Aribelle's foggy mind clicked – _no, Valentine would never take her on a rescue mission _– and she wondered who would have to face his wrath later as the informer.

"A banish or nullify rune, maybe?" A Mark Aribelle was certain hadn't been there last week shone with a faint black light on the back of Melissa's ready hand.

They both jumped as a deafening crash came from below and debris rained down on them like hail. _By the Angel, Aribelle, think. _"No, it would have to be a rune for – for cleansing. A regular one doesn't have enough angelic power."

"Now isn't really the best time for a lesson!" Melissa had no Nephilim training to help her mask the panic in her wide eyes. "What does it look like?"

"First you draw a stroke down – on the actual barrier, not the cave, it shouldn't hurt you."

A sharp gasp proved her wrong, but Melissa's eyes told her to continue.

"Then what?"

"To the left – no, your right! – a big arc around the top and then a swooping line down."

"Yeah?"

"And then a sharp cross – yes, you have it! Make a line on either side of the loop." It was almost as if Melissa's hand was tracing the very same picture in Aribelle's mind. "Then another line on the bottom…almost done…now finish it off with a curved swirl at the top."

The barrier burst with a blinding light, taking half the cave's walls with it. Both Nephilim reached for each other at once and went down amidst the pelting debris. Lights sparked behind Aribelle's vision as her head was bludgeoned with a falling stone. Fighting to remain conscious, she struggled through the pain centralizing in her skull and into a semi-standing position. Her feet caught a rock and stumbled before hands grabbed her forearms firmly.

"Getting tips from Valentine?" she breathed in a whisper to Melissa's face. A deep purple bruise was blossoming above her right eyelid.

She laughed shakily. "And I'm the only one who cracks jokes in the face of danger? C'mon –" she spat a mixture of gravel and blood onto the rocks around them. "If that thing didn't hear our explosion it needs a hearing aid."

They cast their frantic eyes around before locating what the positioning of Aribelle's prison had hid previously – a tunnel leading in the general direction that the battle noises had come from, sloping downwards at an alarming pace. Melissa, always one for rushing into unknown situations with double the usual speed, pulled Aribelle into the entrance. She barely remembered to snatch her witchlight stone out of her pants pocket.

It was just over five feet high at the most. Aribelle was able to move as freely as her wooziness would allow, while Melissa had to bend her back partially in half to have her dark head barely skiff the tunnel ceiling.

Absolute silence descended upon them as they worked their way downwards, shuffling along as quickly as possible. It was not the proximity to danger but the lack of noise that set Aribelle's heart thumping. They stopped once to trace an _iratze _healing rune over her left temple and then bandage her head wound, still bleeding sluggishly, in a strip of fabric from Melissa's borrowed shirt and then continued.

They were still stumbling through the barely-illuminated darkness when Melissa fell to the ground with a yell of agony. Aribelle wedged herself by her friend's side at once, ghosting the witchlight around her head to see any signs of injury.

"I thought I was the one with the head wound?"

Melissa barely managed a painful smile on her friend's behalf. "No – not a wound –" she gasped, "By the fucking Angel, it's bad this time." Aribelle could only stare, light hazel eyes like saucers. Melissa squeezed her eyes closed. What little colour left drained from her cheeks in seconds, leaving her face like a black-and-white photo, the blood crusted from cheek to chin the only deviance of the pattern.

"It's this thing, the same thing that happened at the dance. My head kills me every time I'm even _near _a freaking demon." Tears of pain and incomprehension shone at the corners of her eyes. _She doesn't know what's wrong with her. _"It's happened again after that – I blacked out both times – oh fuck, Aribelle, get us to Valentine and make sure he's –" her eyes fluttered once before rolling sickly up into her head. It was Aribelle's turn to catch Melissa's limp body before she hit the ground, unconscious.

There was only one choice of action. Carrying a body much bigger than her own as best she could, Aribelle started down the tunnel again, pushing her exhausted body to the very end of its usually unlimited pool of strength. The pain in her head was nothing compared to the stabs of fear in her heart.

She emerged into an enormous cavern from a journey that could have taken fifty minutes or merely fifteen. The clatters of battle had been absent for what she estimated to be nearly an hour. Aribelle cast her eyes into the darkness while setting Melissa's limp body on the cave's stone floor, arms aching in relief, searching for any signs of the classmates she had known for nearly nine years. Her scream knifed through the air when a hot hand touched her shoulder.

Luke's laugh died in his throat but Aribelle almost cried with relief. Her anxiety, packed into each pore of her body for so long, leaked out of her in a breath, transferring instantly into the eyes of the boy opposite her. She knew he was taking in the image in front of him with disbelief; the picture of a life-long friend with a crimson-soaked head bandage and an unconscious, bloody acquaintance slumped beside her was something he had only come across in textbooks.

He opened his mouth and formed words on the third try. "By the Angel, Ari, are you guys okay?"

A spark of strange affection lit in her chest; Luke was heard publicly insulting Melissa only a week earlier.

"No need to worry. We both hit our heads a little," she responded as smoothly as she could. The world wasn't as stationary as she would like, and she wondered if her voice sounded as unsteady as she thought. Luke reflexively took hold of her arm and draped it around his shoulder, providing a human crutch.

"We killed the demon, though!" he half-shouted, as if to cheer her. And to an extent, it did. "It was lethal! One of them that totally focuses on something. Pretty pissed when it found out that its target hadn't come to the party. It took us a while – Valentine reopened his arm, and Joce got a pretty bad one on her chest, and we might have a bit of explaining to do back at the Academy – but we did it. A few casualties, but we'll all live." Aribelle beamed and then made a move to lift Melissa, but Luke kept her arm around his shoulder. "Don't strain yourself, we'll send a member to get her in a minute."

Aribelle felt her eyes attach to her friend's body once more; lying sideways with her hands resting by her stomach, she could have been perceived as asleep. But she trusted Luke with her life, and he had assured her the Circle was gathered in an antechamber-like cave only a few meters away.

A smile spread across her face when she cleared the stalactites at the cave entrance and saw that they were all there, squished into one little room-like cave like sardines in a can. Preparations had been in order, a sort of rescue mission, judging by the copious amounts of rope, sharpened daggers and witchlight stones that had been gathered in a pile in the center. Yet all action ceased with one yell from Jocelyn.

They spun around as if they were the many parts of one organism. Jocelyn had a five-second advantage and therefore was the first to envelope Aribelle's slight frame in her arms.

"Oh by the Angel, Ari, we thought we lost you," she murmured. Aribelle could feel the harsh convulsions that racked her body, betraying her emotions, but not a single tear fell from her green eyes. Of course none did. Shadowhunters didn't cry.

Jocelyn's height made it easy for her to unwrap Aribelle's bandage with a battle-esque flick of her wrist. Her red-haired friend stepped out of the hug to look her better in the face. It was then that Aribelle caught sight of the _iratze_ rune, freshly black, drawn beside a semi-faded wound on her diaphragm and the cleaned cuts that dotted her face.

"It's worse than it looks, right?" they said in union.

Leila's laugh joined in with theirs. "You guys are such manly warriors," she joked, "If that was me, you'd already have more _iratzes _than freckles." She brandished a stele threateningly, but didn't act on her prediction, nor seemed to notice that Aribelle's cheek were devoid of any dots. "Hey Joce! Let someone else get a turn with her."

But the next arms she was embraced in were definitely masculine. It only lasted for a second, but just like that night at the Christmas party, it was enough to make her feel like everything was going to be fine.

"You beat us to the rescue," Valentine observed as he took a step back.

"Yeah, I'm sorry; I could run back to that cave I spent the last twenty-four hours in if you want." He smiled, but didn't laugh; everything in his posture screamed disappointment at not having been able to prevent her kidnapping in the first place. He inquired about her head injury once, just to make sure the _iratze _was ridding her of the majority of the pain. Aribelle nodded, and he said no more on the subject. It was her turn to smile. His acute sensing of her dislike of pity was just one of the things she loved him for. She had noticed the way he positioned his newly Marked and bandaged arm in the shadows at his side, but did him the same courtesy of not commenting in front of the entire group.

Leila made her inquiries then and the others soon followed suit, Michael and Robert praising her through humour and Oliver taking her in his arms unabashedly, doing a much worse job than Jocelyn at disguising the moisture in his eyes. Only after he had pressed his lips to hers, as if to prove her not a figment of his imagination, did he allow her to pull out of his arms and raise her voice.

"You guys are the best. Really. I can't even _begin _to thank you for knowingly risking your lives to come get me, even if I came to you in the end." She was sure everyone noticed how she stumbled over her words, an extremely un-Aribelle-like characteristic, to get her deep feelings of gratitude across. "The demon didn't just let me out, of course. A very amazing person you all know did. I need a couple of people to help me get Melissa – she's just outside this cave – and then we should throw some party or something –"

She ceased to speak when Valentine stepped forward; displaying the most horrified look she had ever seen on his narrow face. The other Circle members only glimpsed the expression of cool annoyance that he donned a second later.

"You said that Melissa was here?"

She nodded.

"Do you have any notion of _how _she came here?"

The Circle murmured, some equally as surprised as their leader on the newest member's appearance. Aribelle touched her forehead gingerly, noticing how one member's particularly stoic look only further supported her theory. The _iratze _had nullified the sting and bleeding but had done nothing for the incessant pounding directly behind her temples.

"I – I don't know, but she just appeared at the cave where I was being held! She _freed _me though, and Valentine, don't you even _think _of taking her to task on this, she just hit her head for the Angel's sake!"

But he was already gone, stalking past her with all the anger and grace of a predatory cat.

Jocelyn came up behind her. "I think that's exactly what he means to do. But you know Melissa; she can handle it."

Aribelle's heart sunk as she realized what her friend would awaken to. "I know."

It took nearly all her strength just to pry her own eyelids open. It was as if some carpenter had come along and painstakingly lined her creases and lashes with a gritty cement mixture, effectively gluing them shut. Melissa finally achieved the feat and blinked a few times, waiting for images to form but receiving only darkness. Memory washed over her in waves as she propped herself up on her elbows, all traces of head pain vanished.

"Take your time. I was fine with waiting a few minutes longer." Valentine sat cross-legged beside her, his outline barely visible in the glow of the witchlight stone that sat on the ground between them. Judging by the way the light set his cheekbones and sharp, clenched jaw line aglow, his patience was exactly opposite of what he had just indicated.

She scrambled to a sitting position. "Instead of demonic auras and battle, I wake to a guy who looks like he stepped out of a Danielle Steel novel and romantic lighting. I think you forgot your rose."

He took both the joke and inverted compliment impassively. "We killed the demon close to an hour ago. Aribelle walked into our first-aid station just minutes ago, as if she was returning from a mundane history class, but sporting a half-healed head wound. How did she get that, I wonder? And furthermore, _how did she come to us in the first place?"_

"She was released. It's a word that usually implies a person being let out of some sort of captive situation, if you didn't already know."

Her inhuman eyesight detected the tightening of his thickly corded neck tendons and starting screaming at her to shut up.

"I know perfectly well what the definition of _released _is," Valentine hissed, "But I don't think _you _know the meaning of _stay put." _

The blackness of his eyes rivaled the cave surrounding them and Melissa's heart leapt to her throat as images of the Valentine-demon taking her in his iron embrace sprung out of the darkness. Her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in with a vengeance and she naturally did the thing that came as easy as breathing.

"I am a student of the Academy, a member of your _beloved _Circle and, incidentally, Aribelle's best friend. _What _says that I don't have every reason to be here? I cannot believe you locked me in that stupid room. That was fucked up, Valentine, even for you."

She could almost feel the heat of his eyes as they seared into her face, anger sketched into every line of his face. "I saw Jocelyn being the first to hug her and exclaim over her safety. What did you do, Melissa, when you first saw her? Suddenly faint with unbearable pain? Crack a one-liner?"

Every muscle in her body vibrated with scorching rage. She dug her fingers into the cloth of her jeans to prevent them making contact with Valentine's face. "This isn't about Aribelle, is it? No, you _know_ she has some degree of feelings for you but you don't care. This is about me, leaving that godforsaken room when you told me to stay put. You thought you could control me, couldn't you?" She forced herself to take a breath. "Newsflash – you can't. I might be a member of your perfect little Circle, but it's because I agree with _its _ideals. _Not yours, _however similar they may be_._"

Valentine stood up as fast as if the ground below him caught fire. "Do you ever let your guard down for a second? Are you just so afraid to be _controlled _that you're physically unable to listen to common sense? What happened to you before you finally got the balls to enroll in the Academy? Did men get to you? Make you take off your clothes on a stage because you needed the money? That profession is still called _stripping, _it doesn't matter how prettily you dance. Or maybe… maybe it was before that? What did your _parents _do to you, Ryder?"

Melissa rose, very slowly, the clattering of the witchlight skittering away from the force of her shoe the farthest thing from her mind. Her thoughts were churning, planning each word to be as stinging as she could possibly make it.

"No, I know what your _deceased _parent did to you: made you afraid of one thing and one thing only. Not death, not pain: fear. You can't be scared, can you? It would tear you limb from limb. And it is right now, isn't it? Because you're scared. I have no clue why. But you are. I can see it in those creepy black eyes of yours."

Valentine was made of stone as he replied, "I'm most definitely not scared of anything happening to you, Melissa."

In a second she had her shield around her and the witchlight stone in her palm, praying to leave every thought of Valentine behind her in the darkness.

"I think I found that thorny rose – it was up your ass."

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**Reviews are cupcakes. Really.**


	20. Blurred Lines Between Love and Hate

All I really have to say is... last chapter. AND that there's a special announcement in the epilogue, so stay tuned. I'm still not sure how many people are actually reading this, so if you are, please _please _leave a review, telling me how you liked the chapter, the characters, the whole fic. It'd mean so much to me on my last chapter.

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**Chapter 19: Blurred Lines Between Love and Hate**

As she passed through the Academy's oak double doors, the only thing Melissa allowed herself to think about was the amazing feeling of wearing her own clothes. She had been trapped in the never-quite-fitting clothing of others for the last forty-eight hours, and it had felt incredible to slip on the flannel sweats and cotton shirt that were undeniably _hers_ when she had gotten home late last night. Aribelle had stuck by her side for the rest of the journey back to the city and had even offered a place on her dorm room floor, but Melissa had declined, wanting her own clothes too much.

Of course, her head hadn't allowed her to think of last night's conversation at all.

She made an effort to dodge the groups of students converging before the dreaded Monday morning classes, yet still managed to trip over an unsuspecting fourth year. Squeezing her way past the artistically paneled front desk, it occurred to her that it had been a mere two weeks since she had stood on that spot, under the secretary's scrutinizing gaze, new and alone and a little bit embarrassed that she hadn't been there nine years earlier. It felt like two years ago.

A familiar face popped out at her, hardly unnoticeable with her crimson hair standing out amongst a sea of brunettes and blonds like a beacon. Jocelyn was sitting on a cement bench just outside the main hall, leg crossed over the other underneath her pleated deep navy skirt, reading, looking nothing like she had just _fought_ a Greater Demon last night. Only the unnaturally high buttoning of her dress shirt gave away the position of the semi-healed gash Melissa knew to be underneath.

Melissa crossed the hall with some difficulty and approached the reading Shadowhunter, who looked up when she was halfway there.

"Hello," Jocelyn greeting her with inquiring eyes. They hadn't spoken a word to each other throughout last night's rescue.

"Hey." Melissa dropped her bag to the floor with a clunk before sitting and cut right to the chase. "I'm assuming it was you who planted that stele and rock, since it fell out of your bag and everything, and…it was a great hint. I got it, after a little help. And the stele is the very thing that saved Aribelle; she couldn't have gotten out of there if there hadn't been a way of drawing a rune on the _outside _of her cave prison. So…thanks. Thanks so much."

Those three words felt so foreign on Melissa's tongue that she was worried she'd said something wrong until Jocelyn grinned and set Charlotte Bronte's _Jane Eyre _down on the bench. "You're welcome; I knew you'd figure it out. I included the stele last minute, but I had a feeling you were going to need one. You could find plenty of daggers and other supplies, but it takes death or a disaster to part a Shadowhunter with their stele. I had to get Valentine to rune me up before we took off to the caves, and believe me when I say it is _not _comfortable getting a shirtless guy to draw on your naked back. Not to mention that it's _Valentine." _She said the name as if it were a well-known noun, just like all the others did, yet there was a humourous tone that everyone else's speech often lacked. The humour would have once gained Melissa's approval, but today any mention of his name grated on her nerves, not to mention the idea of the scene Jocelyn had described.

Nine tolls of the Academy's bell told the students of the hour and also served as a reminder that class began in five minutes. Both girls rose at once, setting their feet for a side staircase. Jocelyn's crisp skirt, buttoned uniform shirt and Academy sweater contrasted sharply with Melissa's ripped jeans and hoodie; she decided to forgo custom for comfort this morning. They climbed the stairs and broke away from the majority of the student mob to start down the picture-lined first floor hallway to their homeroom. Melissa could swear she felt Jonathon Shadowhunter's eyes following her.

"Can I ask you something?"

Jocelyn shot a crooked smile at her. "You already did, but I could give you another chance."

"Why did you do it? You don't owe me anything."

"Because from the moment you got here, you've been treated like the newbie and you hate it. Aribelle's one of the best about it, but I still see her slip up on occasion. And I know, if our positions were switched, I'd feel the same way…and would have wanted someone to do the same thing for me."

Melissa could only nod, oddly touched in a way that she'd never been before. They walked in comfortable silence until they reached Mrs. Logan's classroom doorway. She made to keep going, but Jocelyn's touch on her shoulder stopped her.

"Can I ask you something?" Her green eyes held a sort of wariness, as if to gage her reaction.

Melissa leant against the doorframe, smirking. "You just did."

Jocelyn laughed. "Whatever Valentine said to you in the caves last night – are you taking it seriously? Please don't. Ever since his father passed away earlier this school year, he's been having a rough time. I know that's an unacceptable excuse, but…if you guys come to blows again, go easy on him, okay?"

She couldn't bring herself to be annoyed at the teenage girl in front of her, not with the physical and emotional fatigue of last night finally catching up with her. "Why?"

"Because I know he's going as easy as he possibly can on you," Jocelyn replied with a smile before scooting into the classroom. Melissa followed her in, perplexed, foot clearing the threshold just seconds before the final bell tolled.

She slipped into her seat under Ms. Logan's disapproving gaze, catching Aribelle's eye and not allowing herself to look farther back in the classroom than that. The blonde smiled in greeting before gesturing to a box just underneath the front blackboard, a slightly anxious look pinching her features. Melissa stared back uncomprehending until the teacher's piercing voice called her attention to the front.

"Yes, I know its Monday morning, but that doesn't mean you have to talk with every student in the grade before first bell. I also know that Sunday dinner wasn't everything a few select students had on their agenda last night."

Melissa couldn't help but stifle a laugh as Luke visibly became one with his chair beside her. Aribelle held Logan's stare with impressive impassion, as she assumed most other Circle members tried to.

"You think that's amusing, Miss Ryder?"

Melissa shook her head in an accurate imitation of Aribelle's manner and cursed her position in the very front row of the classroom.

"Hmm, then you might think this humourous as well. We'll be continuing our practical dueling lesson outside in the main courtyard today. I have an errand to run; you're sixteen, I expect you to get yourselves outside and armed within fifteen minutes." She strode out with all the power and strength you'd need to be one of the first female Shadowhunters in a predominantly male world.

The rustle began immediately as students jumped up, glad for reason to escape into the spring morning sunlight, and rummaged in their bags for their steles as they yelled across the room to confirm partners. It wasn't loud enough to drown out the images of the last class duel that were flashing through Melissa's head. Aribelle made to lift the box of seraph blades, yet it dwarfed her small frame and nearly made her lose balance with its sudden offset weight. Melissa ran and grabbed the other end to prevent a disaster.

"You need help? And, maybe, a partner?"

Aribelle caught the glimmer of panic in her eyes and nodded. "Sure. You better go easy on me, though!" They both laughed as they maneuvered the box through the doorway and out into the now empty hall. From what they could see, their classmates had gone on ahead. The sharp clicking of their footsteps on polished wood flooring accompanied them to the top of the main staircase.

Oliver was waiting to accost them there. "Let me," he insisted, stepping immediately over to Aribelle's side and trying to take the box end from her. Melissa snickered as Aribelle elbowed him out of the way good-naturedly.

"We're not in the medieval ages, you know," Aribelle replied through her grin.

"Oh, but we are," Melissa said, "Here, the knight in shining armor can take my end so he and his princess get some quality box-hauling time together." Their laughter followed her as she handed her end to Oliver and jumped down the last three stairs at once. A quick glance behind told her that Oliver had all but taken the box from the smaller blonde.

When her eyes turned forward again, the last person she wanted to talk with in the world was walking beside her.

"If we're going medieval, a man wouldn't let a lady walk alone." She tried to pick up any tone or emotion in his voice and failed.

Part of her wanted to start a conversation, pretend last night never happened, but Melissa couldn't allow herself that luxury. "Judging by what you said last night, I'm no lady to you."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," he said, looking straight ahead as they walked. She saw coiled tension in every step he took. "Are you ready for the one-on-one practice?"

"And why wouldn't I be?"

"From what I saw the previous time, you should've asked me for combat tutoring instead of rune help."

Her eyes narrowed. They had cleared the front desk and were almost at the main entrance, its motto inscribed upon the sweeping overhead archway. _Sine scientia __amittitur__acie__I__nferno__._

"I needed," her jaw clenched, "_help _with that as well."

"Well." He stopped just as they walked into a wall of brilliant sunshine, though; his face mirrored anything but brightness. "It seems you need help with everything, doesn't it?"

Melissa had to scream at every muscle in her body to keep walking. "It seems like _you _need help with starting a conversation and not getting the other person pissed off in under a minute," she hissed under her breath, praying that he'd stay there, not follow her, and avoid the second confrontation in twenty-four hours. But, of course, it was too much to hope for. He was walking beside her again, posture not betraying a single emotion, just because he was _Valentine. _Because he was often so like her in thought and action that it was downright scary.

"I finally got you to say it," he mused, voice suddenly low but still comprehendible. They had crossed the cracked inner courtyard and now walked under the surrounding Athenian-style pillars, only a few yards away from where the rest of the ninth year class gathered in the sun-bleached main square.

She exhaled in anger, sun turning her pale complexion even lighter as rays bounced off her upturned face. "Yes, you got me to say I needed help. Great for you, Valentine. You get a gold star. But there has to be a better way to spend your Monday morning; run off to the rest of the class and play Mr. Popular."

He stopped abruptly as they reached the main courtyard, still a few meters away from their classmates. "You _know _that's not why I do it. There are _gaping holes _in our government system, and no matter how committed or persuasive I am, I cannot do it alone. And do you know what, Melissa?" His voice was a whisper now, like a snake, coiled and ready to strike in a second. "_I need help. _And I thought I would receive it from you, but it doesn't seem like it at the present."

"Oh!" She gave a mock gasp of astonishment. "_Valentine _said he needed help! He's amazing! You know what some of the other students think about your Circle? That it's a _cult. _Now, that might just be because they're getting excluded by the class god but now I might just see it. You preach this idea of "cleansing government," your sole goal is to "purify" the earth, and each member is just a little in love with their leader. What made you start this? I think I touched a nerve yesterday." She was sick, so sick of him talking to her for the sole reason of making her blood boil. Jocelyn's earlier plea was the farthest thing from her mind. If she hurt him enough…he might be gone for good.

"What did your father do to make you want to start this up? Which Downworlder race killed him? And I don't want to assume, but was it possible that he was hunting them at the time?"

Valentine's hand darted to his waist before she blinked, and when she opened her eyes a seraph blade's shining edge was positioned mere inches from her throat. And the dark runes patterning the handle gave it away as not practice-dulled, but _very real._

His eyes burned with the same smoldering fury as the previous night. "Don't you ever, _ever _talk about my father like that," he spat, voice quiet and a hundred times worse than a scream.

The proximity of the blade set her heart thumping but her mind couldn't recognize it as real. _He can't mean to hurt me. Not even he could do that._

"You didn't seem to have that respect about my own parents last night. For all I know, they could be dead as well."

"But you walked out on them years ago; why would you care?"

His blade wavered, falling a few inches to rest at her left breast. Melissa saw Aribelle and Oliver coming down the steps and knew her chance. She side-stepped to cross the distance between herself and the wooden box, willing her feet to move faster than any dance routine. Aribelle, not recognizing Valentine's blade as genuine, didn't question her when she grabbed the first blade her hand touched. She was already naming it under her breath as she closed the distance to Valentine.

"_Belielle."_

It was a blunt practice blade, but it met his with a force that jarred her whole body. "So you're not so high and mighty," she hissed through the cross that their blades made, "At least, you're not above answering my insult with an equally low one of your own."

It was in the split second that Melissa cast her eyes around her that she realized they weren't alone. Not just Aribelle and her boyfriend but what she judged to be more than half the class was gathered around them in a scattered circle and more were joining by the minute; teenagers naturally drawn to a source of drama. If Valentine had noticed, he hadn't shown it.

His quick withdraw of his blade almost caused her to lose balance. She righted herself at the last second, just soon enough to meet the oncoming downward blow to her thigh.

"Maybe I did, but let's remember who said it in the first place, and who didn't understand a sensible act of charity last night." His breathing didn't even appear to be labored.

She looked at him incredulously, barely managing to block a cut to her shoulder, let alone squeeze in an offensive blow. _"Charity?" _

He laughed without mirth as her arm muscles strained to hold him off. "You really must be thick, huh, Ryder? Here's a tip:" Valentine leaned his weight forwards, forcing Melissa to do the same, "When someone forcibly keeps you out of a fight, they're usually trying to protect you."

For once, she was devoid of speech. Valentine smiled as each clash their weapons sent jarring waves of pain through her arms.

"My, my, Melissa. Speechless for once."

"Wrong," she spat. She knew she was tiring, and fast – though she was Nephilim, she was up against one of the best Shadowhunters in the Academy with nine years of strenuous training under his belt. If something didn't stop the fight, Melissa would be humiliated with the class as spectators for the second time. If Valentine thought her dislike was intense at the present, it would be nothing if that took place.

"You'd never try and protect me; you said so yourself." Her face heated at how exhausted her voice sounded.

He parried a feeble cut of hers and swiped his blade by her head, only missing her ear by a centimeter. "You don't know when to be quiet, do you? Shut –" the blade whistled by her cheek _"_– _up!"_

Melissa lowered her blade, chest heaving and hair swaying in the slight breeze. She knew it was juvenile, but that had never stopped her before.

"Make me."

She didn't expect him to unclench his fingers from his blade handle and let it clatter to the ground, then close the distance between then in a single step and quiet her lips with a fiery kiss.

It was over so fast she could have dreamt the way his mouth had melted into her own, with no idea of where he ended and she began. Or the way he had tasted – equal parts musky sweet and a cinnamon spice that was so very Valentine. But she hadn't; she could still feel his hand on her cheek and hear his voice. It took a few seconds for her to focus enough to listen.

"I've wanted to do that for two weeks, and it was very much worth the consequence." His eyes, filled with amusement, had left her face to focus on something behind her.

"Consequence?" her mouth formed the word heavily, tearing her eyes away from his angled face to sweep over the small crowd, past Aribelle's knowing smirk, to stop at Ms. Logan's incensed face.

"Fighting unsupervised and inappropriate conduct. I thought you, Mr. Morgenstern, would at least know better. I want you both in the Headmaster's office immediately."


	21. Epilogue: Girlfrienemy

Well, this is it. I'm extremely happy and more than a little bit sad to say that yes, this is the epilogue of Merely a Luxury. So right here, right now, I'd like to thank every single one of you gorgeous people who have read this far. Everyone from the amazing ones who review every single chapter (you know who you are) to the beloved silent readers... I'd love to hear what you think, even as a final review about the whole fic, but you're amazing just for sticking with me and Melissa and Valentine (who is SADLYYYYY not my own) all this time. And the very most thanks go to my FRICKING AMAZING IDJFSKFNKSDING BETA ELLESS for grammatical error correcting, awesome side comments, and generally being an epic person. Read on, but before you get TOO sad, wait until the annoucement at the end.

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**Epilogue: Girlfrienemy**

"That was unpleasantly uneventful," Melissa commented as she passed through the Dean's office door that Valentine was holding open for her. She threw him a semi-irate smirk. "We didn't even get to see the Headmaster. I wonder what you'd have to do to actually get sent to his dungeon?"

He set his pace to match hers as they walked the length of the short, closed hall leading out into the main office area. "You show up to Living Sciences fifteen minutes late and entirely covered in blood."

"Ah." She winced, remembering the bright crimson décor he sported that afternoon all too well. "But you said he went easy on you, right?"

"Yes. Wouldn't want to upset the Morgenstern family," he replied, batting her arm lightly when she muttered something that rhymed with "rompous crass." "It seemed like the Dean was more upset over your clothing choice than the fact that we fought without adult supervision. Luckily, Logan didn't realize my blade was the real thing."

"Yeah." She leaned against the wall, looking ten times more relaxed than the pounding of her heart told she was. Before she could debate saying it, the question was out of her mouth. "What was the whole Zorro-act about? I hate to break it to you, Mr. Perfect Morgenstern, but you could've very well killed me."

The change of mood was tangible, the corners of Valentine's mouth falling from a smile to a straight line as a shadow fell over his face. When Melissa moved to the temporarily vacant front desk to grab a pen and sign herself back into class, he brushed her hand away with a soft touch and penned both of their names into the roster himself. Melissa was too surprised to stop him.

His voice was a whisper when he finally answered. "I know. It was one of the more idiotic things I've done in my life, and I can promise you I'll spend the rest of our time at this school making it up to you."

Melissa stepped towards the middle of the grand hall just for something to do. "What do you mean?"

"I –" he ceased to speak when footsteps were heard from the front doors. Aribelle was approaching, wearing black ballet flats that clicked on the mosaic-tiled granite floor and a grin that would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame.

Her hair shone golden in the slanted sunlight coming in rays from the windows high above. "Sorry to crash the lover's party, but I'm just inquiring – are there any slight shifts in Academy relationship statuses that I should know about?"

"Nuh-uh," Melissa chuckled before Valentine had a chance to answer. "Please don't tell me Ms. Logan lets students out of class to ask stupid questions."

Aribelle held a sheet of paper up in front of her body like an iron shield. "I'm taking the attendance records to the office! It's a wonder she was even able to take attendance, with all the class in such a kerfuffle."

"Ooh, lovely. Does everyone think I'm a horrid slut now?" Melissa's eyes were lit up in emerald glee.

"Not really. The class's female population may be plotting your demise at this very moment, but other than that it's pretty calm." Melissa beamed. "But, you know, if you want to escape those nasty rumours, you might want to make it official." Aribelle's brown eyes darted to Valentine, who was rolling up his shirtsleeves with unusually fidgety fingers. "Are you _positive? _I know our friend here is can be tight-lipped."

"You heard her answer," he replied mildly.

Aribelle took a step in the huge mahogany desk's direction. "Sure, whatever. Don't indulge my inner romantic. At each other's throats one minute, passionately embracing the next – _so _Jane Austen." She noticed both Melissa and the returning secretary giving her the evil eye and grimaced. "Then be that way. I'm off!"

Melissa looked after her friend's figure, leaning up against the desk that rose to her diaphragm and conversing with the secretary in polite tones. She was fairly sure Aribelle had just given her blessing.

"So, what were you going to say? Now that we have a free block, I think we should make use of it. Trash some books in the library, start a food fight, get up to some general mischief?"

Valentine eyed her with faint amusement. "Thank you for the suggestions of what I can spend my free block doing. You, Miss Ryder, are going back to class."

She made a noise of disbelief. _"Right. _You're pretty stupid for a relatively smart guy."

"I have been attending the Academy for…hmm," he mimed counting on two hands, "Nine years now? You have been coming for a grand total of two weeks. If anyone needs combat practice, it's the girl in front of me."

Melissa stepped closer to him, bringing their faces a mere heated inch apart. The tension that bridged the gap was palpable. "Make me."

His breath of laughter tickled her face with warm fingertips. "Where have I heard that before?" he murmured before stepping away and taking her arm in a grasp nothing like his previous ones. "You win. This time. I'll show you a place I think you'll enjoy."

Valentine led her down a side hall and through a part of the Academy she'd never visited before. She was only able to tell the difference by watching the wall's décor morphing from its usual gilded brown and gold to a deep blue and silver paneling. Only when they emerged into a tiny, overgrown courtyard lit with sunlight did he let her forearm out of his grasp.

Melissa walked dazedly over to a concrete bench surrounded by a bush of blush-pink carnations and sat, the seat telling its age by the many cracks that decorated it. The delicate beauty of the ancient courtyard was far from lost on her.

She looked up from the stunning array of flora when Valentine took a seat beside her – close, but not presumptuously so, Melissa noticed with an inward laugh.

Content with the view, she waited for him to start speaking. It only took a moment for him to do so.

"I was going to say something before Aribelle came along."

"Yes, that's usually what people intend to do when they open their mouth and make noise. Not everyone, though. Unfortunately."

He threw her an exasperated look of endearment. "You're making me rethink my question."

Melissa fought a look of astonishment – if she wasn't mistaken, it appeared as if Valentine was _hesitant. Unsure. _Her hand touched his larger one, already battle-worn at sixteen, acting on a sudden impulse that left no room for thought. A soft chuckle escaped her lips at the realization that she had pronounced him an extreme annoyance and asshole just two weeks ago.

"Come on, spit it out."

Any composure Valentine had lost was gained a moment later. "We just kissed, right now. In front of the whole class."

"Yeah, I noticed." She had more than _noticed._

He laughed. "Good, I didn't think I was that horrid of kisser. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to make it official, like our mutual friend implied. Be in a relationship. For lack of better words, go out with me. This is horrible wording, but I have a feeling that, if addressed as my girlfriend without previous consent, you'd kick my ass."

This question had run through Melissa's mind along with a thousand others, but that didn't stop her heart from doubling its tempo when she heard it said out loud. Feminine pride caused her to look away and hide the grin that was spreading across her face. The idea that a guy like Valentine would even express _interest _in her was downright laughable at best to her, but it didn't stop her from inhaling deeply and glancing back at him. His black eyes almost swallowed her whole.

"The nice answer or the true one?"

His brow creased in confusion. "True one, please."

"Nope."

His eyes widened in an astonishment that caused Melissa mirth and heartache in equal parts. He really did care for her – she saw that now, in his eyes and his face and his posture – and he was experienced in giving negative answers to girls' propositions, but _he never imagined he'd ever be on the receiving end. _Now, it could be excruciatingly easy to stand up, walk away, and never have a good reason to interact with him again, exactly like she was hoping to do half an hour ago.

But, he was already up. While she had been debating, the mask had slipped back into place. "I guess that's that, then. You've made your point clear many times. I've mistaken other actions for affection. I'm sorry," Valentine said icily, cordially, making to walk out of the courtyard the same way they entered.

But Melissa knew now that if she let him walk away now, she'd kick her own ass. She sprinted in front of him in a matter of seconds, a physical need for him to understand burning in her like wildfire.

"I enrolled in the Academy for a reason," she started, tripping over her words in a way she'd never known before. "I want a Shadowhunter's education, and I only have a year and a half to get it. I need to concentrate, and you know that's hard for me. And," she breathed a shaky laugh, "I've never had a boyfriend before. And I know _you _of all people would be a distraction." Her lips curled into a desperate grin. "Probably the biggest distraction of my life. So, let me rephrase this. I _want _to go out with you, I just…can't. Not right now."

An eyebrow broke out of the mask, rising up in a way Melissa had always been jealous of. "You've never had a boyfriend before?"

She scoffed. "Trust you to only pick up that part of my speech. Yes, it's merely a luxury I couldn't afford at the time, with dancing and such. And still can't afford, until I get more of this demon-hunting 101 under my belt."

"You're saying _right now. _How do I know you're not planning on double crossing me? Going back on your word?" His eyes danced with an amusement that seemed private; for she was sure she had never witnessed him showing outward mirth to this degree around any other.

"You do me an injustice. Here, I'll give you a token of good faith." And she closed the gap between their bodies and pressed her lips to his, softly, twining her arms around his neck in a display of vulnerability that felt exceedingly foreign to her. Though, if everything went along with her plans, she knew she'd have time to get used to it.

When they broke apart, Valentine was grinning. His face was all she could see: dark eyes offset by fair skin, strong jaw line and hair set on fire by the sun, perfectly centered above them, as he whispered "I'm going to hold you to that."

_Fin_

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**Now I'm sure that there's a few people out there swearing their heads off at me (at least I hope so.) Even though I love reader involvement... my lovely beta "suggested" I should say this.**

**"Merely a Luxury" is "merely" (ha...) a PREQUEL fic to another, MUCH longer affair that will be named "Morning Star." It will start at rouhly the same time this just ended and continue though to the end of the City of Glass. Already the first three chapters are fully written. I am going to Italy for three weeks the day after tomorrow so I won't be posting any of it until then (July 31st.) But stay tuned!**

**And with that, I cut off any further ramblings and say goodbye. For now. :] **


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